


Groundhog Day?

by cicir



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I need something without darkness and sad stuff, Reader remembers and lives through resets, and eventual smut, and need just fluff, i keep depressing myself, something pretty darn light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicir/pseuds/cicir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time there was a reset, everyone around Sans acted the same. </p><p>He walked into the same cafe, the same people gasped at his skeletal face, the same hostess giddily showed him to his seat, and the same waitress reacted too over the top to his order of "some eggs with his ketchup." </p><p>Everything in a reset was always the same; nothing ever changed. </p><p>Nothing but you, that is. </p><p>#in which Reader lives through and remembers all resets, and (with no other explanation available) has just accepted that she's living in The Groundhog Day movie.</p><p>beta reader: It's-a-snowdecahedron</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That goddamn fridge

**Author's Note:**

> Literally. Just. LIke. Fluff. and happiness. and a little angst with the resets thing but VERY minimal like seriously all my stories get sad and this one AIN'T GONNA FUCKIN DO THAT
> 
> I hope.
> 
> Thanks to my OFFICIAL BETA READER it's-a-snowdecahedron!

Stainless Steel. You had a weird relationship with stainless steel. It was odd, how something you see so often could develop such an emotional connection, but after blinking for the tenth time and being faced with that cold silver-grey, you realized how you had grown to hate that goddamn color. 

 

The hundredth time, you had mockingly accepted the cold metal as your life-long lover. 

 

The thousandth time, your lover had grown tiresome. 

 

Finally, maybe at around ten thousand, (or at least that’s what it felt like. You’d lost count after around the fifteen hundred mark), you had just accepted it as a part of life; not as a lover, but maybe more as an alarm clock that went off every couple of days, marking the start of a new....

 

“Day.”

 

So now. You were standing in front of your fridge, that boring stainless steel, one hand filled with various pills, the other half way through with filling a glass of water, and you simply accepted it. 

 

See, somehow your life had become the literal Groundhog Day movie, except instead of it being one day, it was closer to a week. Well. It varied from 4 to around 8 days. The longest yet had been an entire month; that drove you wild. You’d open your eyes to that stainless steel, your pills in hand, and continue on with your life for about a week before, suddenly, you’re looking at that lifeless grey once more. 

 

Needless to say, you have been through quite a ride so far. The first (and second) time it happened, you spent the entire week in a dazed “deja vu” sense, refusing to believe that your life had just rewound by a week. 

 

Nothing special had happened, nothing that would warrant a reversal of time. You were not an asshole like that guy from Groundhog Day was. You were pretty kind, you thought. Sure, your life wasn’t the  _ most  _ exciting: the village at the base of Mt. Ebbot was small, and practically  _ built  _ for people who didn’t want exciting lives. 

 

Which was rather odd, as Mt. Ebbot Village was the home of the most human mages in the world: they were drawn to the barrier like college students to free pizza day. They were all pretty relaxed though; they just siphoned from the barrier’s magic, and added life to the surrounding forests. Human magic had changed since the times of the war: the mages were weaker, more channels than mages, really. They had little herb shops and knick knack stores, and mostly hugged trees and told stories passed down in their families of Monster friendships and jovial happiness. Most, if not all of them were monster advocates: mages fighting to remove the barrier and re-integrate the Monsters to society. They touted that it would fix the economy and global warming, and that removing access to magic was the biggest mistake the Human Race had ever made. 

 

In fact, almost the entire town was Pro-Monster freedom. The mages were  _ very  _ convincing. 

 

It made little difference to you, though. You just lived a quaint little life in a quaint little home with a quaint little job in a quaint little town, doing quite a bit of  _ nothing _ , but it was just how you liked it. 

 

You were an author; your first published book was nothing to sneeze about; it’s success was greater than flukes, but not enough to get you a place on the front counter of Barnes and Noble. It  _ was _ enough, though, to give you enough income to purchase a small home and live in peace while you wrote your second book. 

 

You had written and rewritten the 23r’d chapter of your current book over a thousand times now; your first  _ real  _ hypothesis to time’s resets was that the Fates were not quite happy with how your chapter was coming along. So you wrote it. And re-wrote it. And wrote it again until you not only felt that your one chapter was probably the most polished piece of literature to ever come to Man, but you also had every word of every possible variation memorized. 

 

After you decided you had broken records on amazing writing of ONE chapter, you quit, instead spending your repeating weeks doing everything you could ever possibly want to do. 

 

You took all your life savings (and maxed out your credit cards) to purchase the largest yacht possible, and then sailed it as far as you could before time reset. 

 

You did the same thing with just about every car under the sun, in every direction possible. You knew the surrounding 500 miles like the back of your hand. 

 

You studied every subject your little heart desired, filling days and days with astrophysicism, lexicography, anthropology, classic literature, instruments,  _ sex positions  _ god you got desperate after a while. 

 

Finally, maybe after a good 800 repeated weeks, you calmed down. You accepted your life, and you took to what any person would. 

 

You went to the library, got a new book, and spent most days reading happily in the cute cafe down the road. 

 

You’d talked with every barista, every cook, every waiter, every customer, about every topic under the sun until you knew more about them than you thought you knew about yourself. 

 

And yet, even though you had been doing this for so long, even though you thought you  _ should  _ get tired of them, you somehow didn’t. Maybe it was because you were a complacent, optimistic person who enjoyed the little things in life. Maybe it was because people were  _ truly  _ incomprehensible, and every time you talked with them,  there would always be something new. Some new topic you’d never brought up, or some new gem they’d be willing to tell you for whatever reason. 

 

And there’s more than enough books to keep you entertained for eternity, if you’re okay with rereading one after about 3 years worth of time. 

 

So.... 

 

Life wasn’t bad. If anything, it was calming, peaceful,  _ predictable _ . You had grown to like your little repeating world. 

 

So one morning, 13 days into a particularly long cycle, when the little jingle of the bell above the door of the cafe you so lovingly claimed as your own assailed your ears, you looked up, rather surprised but still sipping at your morning coffee.

 

No one was supposed to come through that door for at  _ least  _ another hour, if your calculations of the 13-day cycles were correct (they were). So, intrigued and perturbed, your eyes trailed to the entrance to the cafe, and paused on the hooded figure that walked in, interest spiking as hands went to the hood, and pushed it off their head. 

 

You choked, coffee pouring ungracefully from your mouth and dribbling down your chin as you slammed on your chest, trying to take in a breath. Heads turned to you, giving the hooded figure enough time to get to the hostess before people noticed him. 

 

Or more specifically, giving enough time for the hostess, a lovely mage named Janice, to see the figure, gasp like she had just been proposed to, and then yell in excitement, “YOU’RE A MONSTER!” 

 

The heads turned in your direction quickly turned away, and your calm little cafe burst into commotion. People jumped from their chairs, leaned around tables, stood over partitions just to see if Janice was correct. Gasps filled the entire cafe, and the figure- rather skeletal looking, from your first glance- recoiled, taking a step back at the extreme reaction. 

 

“No no no! Please!” Words spilled from Janice’s lips, and she practically barrelled over the hostess podium to grab the poor monster’s hand, tugging on him in a physical plea for him to not leave. “We’re friendly, I swear! We’ve just never  _ seen  _ a monster before, and like, you’re right here!” 

 

“Glad I could... provide?” The skeleton sounded unsure, skeptical. You didn’t blame him, but you knew Janice did truly only have good in her heart. The other guests respectfully sat down, but none looked away. Janice tugged at him again. You wiped the remaining coffee off your face, and submitted yourself to a coffee stained shirt for the rest of this cycle. 

 

Well.... Did this skeleton mean your cycles were over? 

 

...Fuck you  _ liked  _ this shirt. 

 

“Please stay! We’re  _ more  _ than happy to serve you! You  _ do  _ eat human food, right?” 

 

“Uhh, yeah. We eat human food. It wouldn’t be  _ humane  _ not to!” 

 

“OH hahahaha! That’s funny! Humane!” Janice prattled; you could  _ taste  _ her nervous, excited panic as she grabbed a menu and practically  _ sprinted  _ across the cafe toward you, dropping the menu on the table to the left of yours. “Your table is over here, someone will be RIGHT with you!” She  _ yelled _ before reaching forward, grabbing his hand in hers. “And may I be the  _ first  _ to  _ formally  _ welcome you to the above ground!” 

 

“Ah. Thanks.” The skeleton said, sitting down. 

 

“Can i get you something to drink? Water? Milk?” 

 

“Ketchup.” The skeleton said, and then repeated quieter, “Ketchup... please.” 

 

“Coming right up!” Janice belted happily, before holding her hand out again, “I’m Janice, if you didn’t catch that the first time!” 

 

“Uhh.... Sans. Sans the Skeleton.” 

 

“Wow!” Janice shook his hand, and then let go of it quickly, breathing, “A REAL monster!” And she scampered off. The skeleton, Sans if you heard right, let out a sigh, resting his skull in his hands, watching the whirlwind of a woman disappear into the back. 

 

“She means well,” You said, folding your napkin up and placing it back in your lap. The skeleton looked over at you, and you gave him a grimace. “She really does. Our town is  _ very  _ pro-monster...” You shrugged, “So seeing you suddenly walk in here is pretty much everyone’s wet dream. 

 

“Heh,” Sans laughs, “I thought everyone’d be a bit more... unaccepting of a skeleton walking into a cafe,” He muses, and you give him a half smile. 

 

“You can expect that  _ outside  _ of this town,” you say, then pause, “probably,” You correct, then continue. “But here, you should be pretty welcomed... if not  _ idolized _ .” 

 

“You don’t seem to be idolizing me,” He observed, and you just let out a huff.    
  


“I’ve seen too much to be surprised anymore, I think,” you sipped at your coffee. You could see a peculiar expression fall onto the skeleton’s face, but you just waved him off with a smile. “Nothing like a monster, I mean, just odd things in life. Honestly,” your eyes trailed away from him, looking out the window, “I think i’m probably just in shock right now. You being here... means a lot of change.” Your eyes flicked to him again. 

 

“Gee, really.” He rolled his eye- little lights in his eye-sockets, actually. You laughed, placing your coffee cup down. 

 

“I guess change comes hand in hand with a monster walking into your cafe, huh?” 

 

“It kinda does,  _ tibia _ honest.” You heard his voice catch an odd tone at “tibia,” and you snorted. 

 

“Wow!” You shifted in your booth, facing him a bit more, “you suck at that!” 

 

“Suck at what?” He looked  _ genuinely  _ offended, as if you had just insulted his lifelong hobby. 

 

“Puns!” You reacted, “You can’t make them so obvious like that:  _ tibia  _ honest,” You overstressed “tibia” mockingly. “Nah, man, you gotta just kinda...  _ slip  _ em in! They have to be able to marrowly avoid detection, you know what I mean?” 

 

“That takes out half the fun, thou-” Sans paused, narrowing his eye-sockets. “Did you just-?” 

 

“Marrow.” You raised your eyebrows for a moment, and then let them drop. “See?” You let your smile slip from genuine to sly, and he chuckled. 

 

“Wow. You’re going to be a skele-TON of fun.” His grin doubled in size as you gawked at him; he didn’t get the lesson at all! 

 

“No! You have to be  _ subtle!  _ You can’t just- Aah!” You flicked your hand in his direction, kind of giving the bird, but without the bird. 

 

“Was that a bird without a bird?” 

 

“What’s it to you?” You eyed him, “And maybe it  _ was _ .” 

 

“You’re a nerd.” 

 

“And you’re a skeleton. Why are we stating obvious facts?” 

 

“Oh my god, you’re priceless.” 

 

“And you’re a skeleton. Why are we  _ still  _ stating obvious facts?” 

 

“Okay fine. You’re cute.” He eyed you, challenging. 

 

“Obviou- oh!” You paused, feeling your face slowly heat up; you stuttered for a moment, and then looked away. You heard him chuckle, and then heard the soft squeak of chair against linoleum. You looked up, eyes widening when you saw him picking up his menu, and casually walk to your table, plopping into the booth across from you. You are stunned to silence. 

 

“Mind if I join you?” Sans mocks, his smile cocky. You just stare at him for a moment, trying to find your voice. 

 

“You... You’re pretty brazen for a man stepping into a new world for the first time in 700 years,” you finally said. Sans just leaned on his hands. You chuckled at him, leaning on your own hands as well. 

 

Maybe the shock was wearing off. Were you free? Was it this simple, just a broken barrier, and suddenly your life is moving forward again? Would you have to start writing again? Would you get to see everyone’s stasis of a life continue? 

 

“Your soul shines like someone one re-incarnation away from Nirvana,” he replies, “How could I  _ not  _ trust that?” 

 

“Oh,” you say, pleasantly surprised. Sure. You knew about souls. You lived in a village made of 75% mages; of COURSE you knew about souls! In fact, humans often had mages call souls out of their chests as a form of divination; Mages knew about LV and EXP, and had a general gist of the idea behind soul colors, but they could not see a soul unless it was called out. You had never gotten your soul looked at. You didn’t want to see what thousands of repeated weeks did to a soul meant to live for only 80 ish years. No thank you, you’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance. But apparently... it meant  _ enlightenment?  _

 

“I don’t mean actual enlightenment,” Sans said, “your face says you’re thinking way to hard into that statement.” 

 

“Oh,” you blushed, looking down “Sorry... I’ve just never gotten a compliment like that.” You smiled. “Thank you.” You breathed, a weight you didn’t know was pressed on your chest lifting away. Yes... You could start living your life again. With Monsters!

 

“Well it’s true,” Sans said, voice calm and cool but also brimming with nervousness. It was nice to see how  _ relatable  _ he was, despite the difference in species. He was practically a human, suffering from the same nerves of being in a new place, talking to a new person, and trying to converse with a stranger. “Your soul looks a thousand years old,” He said, and you felt a bristle of offense, eyes shooting up right as Sans realized his blunder. His hands shot up, “NotlikeyouLOOKathousandyearsold!” 

 

“Too late!” You shot your head away from him, covering it dramatically with the back of your hand. “Oohh woe is me! I look so  _ old!”  _ You wailed, and held back a laugh when you heard Sans groan in embarrassment. “How shall I  _ ever  _ live with this knowleg-” You looked down at Sans, and trailed off, voice reaching no ear but your own. 

 

It had been a very long time since looking at that stainless steel fridge filled you with such remorse. 


	2. It's called Parallellism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lets add some more colors to this wheel! 
> 
> Brown.  
> Red.  
> Brown-red?   
> LIGHT BROWN! 
> 
> fuck it's becoming the weirdest bland rainbow, but hey, you'll take what you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH MY FIRST CHAPTER REACTION WAS CRAZY! 
> 
> holy shit. just saying. You guys reacted SO crazily! 
> 
> Well. This chapter is a bit more world building, but i hope you like it anyway! 
> 
> Umm. Kudos and comments, and i'm sorry for the slow update, i love you! 
> 
> beta reader: its-a-snowdecahedron
> 
> they're my love.  
> my life.

How the ceiling got that ketchup stain, Sans would never know, but just as the forlorn emptiness in his soul prevailed through each reset, so did that goddamn red splotch. 

He’s cleaned that taint from above his bed countless times, and awoken countless times to it’s mocking re-appearance; he never thought that dried out ketchup would have the ability to nearly bring him to tears, but at the sight of the crusty tomato sauce, he could feel the cold, dry stinging of what would be tears if he weren’t a skeleton. 

He shook the feeling away, quickly reminding himself that last time had been different! They had reached the surface for the first time! He had felt the sun kiss his face, marveled the crackle of loose gravel under his slippers, and laughed at the antics of the brightest soul he had ever seen. 

As he kicked his feet off the bed, he couldn’t stop from pondering how could a soul be as bright as yours. It seemed nearly impossible; the only soul he could come close to comparing it to would be thousand year old Toriel, but even her soul dimmed with the memory of lost children. How could it be possible that someone like you, someone whose appearance told him you couldn’t have been on this world for more than 3 decades, could shine with the experience of someone who had seen countless lifetimes? 

He wanted to know how. 

A feeling had risen in his chest, a feeling he didn’t quite understand; thousands of resets ago, he had lost his hope, but only now this new feeling replaced it. Before, he simply let life roll forward and hoped that something would change, but now? 

Now things were different. 

Sans had watched passively up until this point; He watched Frisk make their way through the underground nearly a million times. He had seen them die to every monster except Papyrus a countless amount of times. 

The tell-tale sound of a ripping red soul, and then the red ketchup on his ceiling. It was like an alarm clock, constantly calling him back into harsh reality that no matter how hard they tried, Frisk was just a child! They couldn’t take on the entire world, no matter how pure their soul was. 

He still remembers the first time Frisk walked through the Ruins’ gate; they were holding a faintly dust tipped stick and eyes that never stopped leaking. 

They died to the first monster they encountered. The next time Sans saw them walk out of the ruins, there were no tears, and no stick to be seen. 

Frisk never wielded a weapon from then on, and Sans watched them fight instead with open arms and an open heart. He watched that open heart get shredded so many times. 

And so many more times, he watched even the coldest monsters return Frisk’s kindness, sparing them as many times as Frisk tried. But it only took one cold hearted monster or one messed up dodge to send both Frisk and Sans hurtling to the beginning again. After particularly long sessions, where Frisk got further than normal, they would normally find their way to Sans rather quickly, and he would find himself consoling them as much as they consoled him. He offered to help countless times, and countless times, Frisk refused. 

Last reset was the first time that Frisk had finally mastered all their dodging, all their kind words, all their hugs and smiles and spares. 

The shattering of the barrier sounded nothing like the ripping of Frisk’s poor little heart, and the sun on Sans’s skin was everything he had ever dreamed of. It reinvigorated his soul and filled him with hope. Frisk seemed just as overjoyed as he was when they watched the sunrise that fateful day; they agreed to live with Toriel, to be an ambassador, and expressed their excitement for the future, albeit with a few glances back at the gaping mouth of the exit of the Underground. 

Papyrus ran off to who knows where, and Sans took the one opportunity he thought he’d ever have to scare an entire diner shitless (look how that turned out). 

So, when the face of a woman whose name he hadn’t even gotten suddenly morphed into that tomato-red, of course the tears threatened. And of course, in a little more than 10 seconds, Sans made a decision. 

As quick as the decision was solidified in his mind, he was standing at the door to the Ruins, feet crunching into the flawless snow. 

Frisk normally took about a day in the Ruins; the longest they’d been was almost a week, the shortest about 3 hours, but Sans had a feeling they’d be here even quicker. Knowing Frisk, they’d know he was waiting for them, and would rush through the entire ruins to give him a goddamn explanation. 

...

He was wrong. 

Days went by, and Frisk was yet to be seen. All Sans heard of them was from his conversations with Toriel, and even then, it was nothing. Normally, it was the first day that Toriel made Sans promise to take care of Frisk; if it wasn’t the first, it was the third. So when the eighth day had passed and Toriel had yet to speak even a word about a human being in the Ruins, Sans began to worry. 

The fifteenth day, the doors finally creaked open, but when Frisk walked out, they were not alone. Their right hand wrapped around the warm paw of Toriel, their left arm held a scowling potted plant, and their smile sang of accomplishment; their eyes beamed with more Determination than Sans had ever seen, and the need for an explanation from Frisk vanished like cotton candy in water. 

If Sans had ever seen an “i’ve got unfinished business” look in someone’s eyes before, the intensity of Frisk’s made him forget.   
_________________  
_________________

It had been 2 months. 

Two whole goddamn months, and nothing had happened. It was almost like you had dreamt Sans, and everyone's excitement at the broken barrier. No, it had been two whole months without a reset, and you were beginning to panic at the thought that everything had been fixed by what could only be assumed as some weird fluke in the timeline. 

One teaser of a world forever changed and a snarky skeleton, and suddenly you were thrust back into an existence where your decisions actually mattered, and you didn’t know how to handle it. 

You’d have to worry about money again! You’d need to actually work further than the 23’d chapter of your book. Oh god you’d need to go grocery shopping, and do laundry and vacuum, and pay taxes, and worry about your weight, and find a way to explain to people how you suddenly knew 13 different languages and more about pretty much everything than most professors. 

FUCK you’d have to dust! 

And dO THE DISHES GODDAMNIT! 

Your heart felt constantly constricted now; you didn’t know how to deal with all of this, and the SOMETHING of your house proved it. Your fridge was empty, all your clothing dirty, your car out of gas. Your furniture had a layer of dust that made you sneeze every time you opened the door, and you swore you’d dust... tomorrow... 

Instead, you let your mind try and categorize all the responsibilities you weren’t taking care of; your heart only grew heavier with each metaphorical unchecked box floating around in your stressed-out noggin, and the only thing you could truly focus on was all the things you hadn’t done when time didn’t matter. 

Why did you become so complacent when there was so much more to do in the world! 

You hadn’t bought plane tickets and travelled the world! You hadn’t gotten a tattoo, you hadn’t gotten plastic surgery to make your face look ridiculous, you hadn’t tried every possible food in the world, you hadn’t tried to convince the entire town that you were the strongest mage.... You had missed out on SO MUCH, and you could only blame yourself. You had enough time, you just didn’t do it, and now you were back on a linear timeline with nothing but a couple hundred thousand memories, and unfinished book, and crippling anxiety. 

So when, on the sixteenth day of the third month, when your neighbor came scrambling to your door early in the morning to exclaim that the barrier had broken! There are monsters in our town! Monsters! You had mixed emotions. 

You’d get to meet Sans again, if you were lucky! The world would change! You’d meet new monsters and learn about things you’d never dreamed of! 

But.

Your entire town would be turned upside-down, and over the past three months, you had learned that you had grown way too comfortable with complacency; change stressed you out! 

So now you were faced with a mighty dilemma: do you go to the cafe this morning, and hope that Sans has the same idea he did last time? Do you stay cooped up in your house and pretend that nothing changed? Do you snag yourself a ticket to the furthest country and just pretend that you’re still living in a timeless world so you can do whatever you want? 

Okay that last one was stupid. It didn’t even relate to your current dilemma! 

But, it did hold some attractive value, so you pondered it anyway...

...And found yourself dressed, keys in hand, and standing in front of your front door. 

You liked the color of your front door a lot more than you liked the cold silver of your fridge. 

A deep brown-red mahogany. You smiled, remembering the day oh so long ago that you bought this house; you bought it for that mahogany door. It’s deep color seemed to set your soul at ease, and you were sure that if anyone tried to break that door down, they’d surely fail. 

What? 

You bought things for weird reasons. And no one was close enough to you to judge your poor life decisions, so you’d buy a house based on the front door if you damn pleased. 

You grabbed the handle, and released yourself to the world outside of your home. WIth a quick twist of a lock, you were off, popping a headphone into your ear and coincidentally setting your steps to the beat of the music. 

The cafe was a short walk away; if it weren’t for the last house on the end of the block, you could probably see their sign from your window. It was a refreshing little hop skip and jump before you pushed the glass doors open and smiled at Janice. 

“Morning!” You greeted her, and she was quick to respond. 

“Three-to-one! You’re late!” She accused, sounding more questioning than angry. You shrugged. Normally, you showed up or before 8:30 in the morning, walked to your little table by the window, and sipped at your coffee (three creams to one sugar) until around 10, so you trotting through the doors at around 11 put her off a bit. 

“Yeah, yeah. Was watching the news.” 

“So you know!” Janice bubbled out, eyes glittering. 

“Nope. No clue. Something about the golf tournament?” You teased. Ah, the amount of gratification your soul got at Janice’s shocked face should be illegal! 

“The barrier! The barrier, silly!” She exclaimed. You snorted, waving her off as you turned, walking to your table. 

“Oh!” Janice interrupted your trek, “I’m sorry, but your table is actually taken this morning!” 

You stopped. 

“It was 10 and i thought you weren’t coming and when he came in he just went straight to that table and I figured you weren’t coming so I thought it wasn’t that big of a deal but now you’re here and i’m really-” 

Your eyes flicked over to your table, and you weren’t surprised in the least to see a skeleton seated at your table, browsing the menu, sipping casually at a glass full of what could only be ketchup. You felt your face twist into surprise, and you let out a small, “Oh!” 

Sans looked up, and the look on his face filled you with... emotions. 

The little lights in his eyes nearly doubled in size, and his smile loosened around the edges; he looked like he was looking at something endearing, and it confused you. It was almost like he was looking at a long lost friend, or at least someone he hadn’t seen in a very long time instead of a complete stranger baffled at his commandeering their spot. 

It was like he knew you. 

“Is there a problem, officer?” Sans asked, the upper half of his skull raising- oh. His “eyebrow.” He was raising an eyebrow. 

You blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. Of course he didn’t know you, he had just come out of the underground for the first time in 700 years. Maybe he just looked at you like that because... because of your soul! Of course! This was the first time he’s seen your soul; he must be shocked at how “enlightened” it looked! Right. 

God this felt so surreal; it was like time had restarted and everything had changed except nothing changed but 2 and a half months of time and this skeleton not knowing who you were. 

“Uhh,” You so gracefully started, and then laughed at yourself. This was ridiculous. “Nothing’s wrong,” You began again, forcing yourself to relax. This was okay. You could just start again. Pretend that the first meeting didn’t happen. Be yourself. “I just normally sit at that table, so looking up to see a skeleton lounging in my seat was a little startling.” 

The skeleton’s eyes dimmed a little, and his smile faltered, but he quickly fixed it. His grin seemed less bright, and more lazy now. You would have read into it, but he distracted you rather quickly with a wave to the seat across from him. “You can join me, if you want. Tibia-nest, I was feeling a little bonely. Would you care to join me?” He motioned toward the booth across from him; you just stared at him. 

Those were all so... smooth! Practiced, even! You were impressed! 

You smiled, shifting a bit, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be a booth-er.” 

Sans shrugged. “How could someone so beautiful be a bother?” 

Oh god when did he become so smooth? You would have blushed, but you were too busy revelling in his fantastic wordplay. You sat across from him, and watched as his smile twisted again. It’s faux laziness faded away a bit, replaced with a bit more of that genuine smile you had seen before, and you decided you liked his real smiles. You leaned on your hands, eyes tilting to the side to acknowledge the waiter as he placed your coffee next to your elbow with a quick, “nice to see you, Three-to-one.” 

“Thanks Kev,” You gave your waiter a passing smile, and he nodded. You returned your gaze to Sans, who was watching the waiter as he walked off. 

“Three-to-one?”

“It’s my coffee,” you explained, giving a quick nod toward the steaming cup. “Three creams, one sugar. Every day at eight thirty in the morning.” 

“How predictable,” he mocked, and you chuckled. 

“Not easy to forget, either,” you added, and then nodded at his red-stained glass. “A bit easier to forget than ketchup, though.” 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to ketchup with me.” He said, emphasizing “ketchup” WAY too much. You groaned. 

“Oh my god NO, you were doing so well!” You complained, leaning back and looking up. “Why? Why did you have to ruin it?” 

“Heh. Thought it would be funny.” Sans shrugged, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. “It was,” he added; you shot him a stink-eye, and he only chuckled in response. 

“Please go back to the Underground. You’re not welcome here anymore.” 

“Oh. I wasn’t aware that you were the pun police. I’m sorry.” 

“Apology not accepted,” You grinned, “you’re under arrest.” 

“Oh good, I was getting a little tired anyway.” He smirked; you paused. Okay. That was a good one. 

“...You’re pardoned.” You admitted, glancing away for a moment, eyes catching the white mug by your elbow. Oh! Your coffee! Right! You wrapped your hands around the warm mug, and lifted the cup to your lips, taking a sip. 

Ah~ 

They always added one icecube before they poured the coffee in the cup, so by the time you took your first sip, the coffee was just the right temperature. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes. 

“So I noticed that you haven’t freaked out that I’m a skeleton,” Sans mentioned, and you paused mid-second-sip. It’s funny; you’d think you’d be used to people repeating questions after so many groundhog day repeats, but maybe Sans was different because he was new. Besides, the repeats weren’t happening anymore. So maybe this was going to be the last time anyone asks you a question you’ve answered before. 

You hummed, placing the mug onto the table, and looking at Sans. You paused for a moment; his face was actually rather pretty, now that you’ve gotten a chance to look at him without the quickness of witty banter. His structure, as to be expected, was very not human like. He had a jaw, a maxilla bone, all the things required for a human skull, but they were very far from human. In fact, his head looked more like a face made of bone. He had a smile, not a gaping disconnected lower jaw lifting up and down as he spoke. His eye sockets weren’t stagnant like yours would be; they scrunched when he smiled or laughed, widened when he looked shocked, raised when he mocked you. He even had his own form of eyebrows! Sure, they were more the ridges above his eyes, but they did the trick well. With how everything looked, you were surprised he didn’t have boney ears on either side of his head. 

Scratch that. That would look weird. 

“I’ve seen a lot in my days,” you finally answered, and the lights in his eyes brightened a bit. 

“Oh?” He asked; it sounded weird, almost mechanic. He leaned forward in the same manner, resting his head on his hands. “With how you look, you can’t be that old,” He smirked, “What, twenty? Twenty one?” 

“Twenty three, thank you very much,” you huffed, scrunching your nose at him in mock offense. He chuckled. The odd, mechanic feeling you were getting from him went away rather quickly, but it still unsettled you. It was almost like he had an agenda of some sort. Like he wanted information. 

“Still. That’s not much time to have ‘seen a lot,’ am I right?” He asked, eyebrows raising. Oh. Was he skeptical of you? He must be; last time, you coughed coffee all over your favorite shirt. This time, you didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Well,” You stalled, looking away from him, “I guess it isn’t, but I’ve had an exciting life so far. Maybe that makes up for it?” 

“An exciting life, eh?” He asks, “Exciting enough to see a skeleton in your cafe before?” 

“You’d be surprised!” You laughed; the expression that overtook his face made you falter, though. “No,” you added quickly, heart skipping a beat or two. “No, I haven’t seen a skeleton in this cafe before.” 

Why did this lie feel so much more important than any of the other times you’ve lied to keep people in the dark about your situation? Err. Prior situation. 

“Oh,” he sounded upset, and when he caught your eye, and your questioning face, he shrugged. 

“I have seen quite a bit though, so maybe I just lost my ability to be surprised?” You copied his shrug, and then paid your abandoned coffee a bit of attention. 

How that specific shade of brown could be the elixir of life for so many people, you had no idea. It was such a bland color, and you had to mask it’s normally bitter taste with other things just to be able to drink it. There was symbolism in it somewhere, you knew it. Probably something about willingly swallowing the ugly things in life to be happy. 

Or maybe that bitter things are a necessity in life. 

Or was it that sometimes you have to add your own ingredients to a shitty experience to make it palpable? 

Y’know what? Let’s keep it vague. Coffee is symbolic. 

Yeah that sounded good. 

“Mm. I’ll accept that answer,” Sans copied you, taking a drink of his ketchup, and then looking out the window for a moment. 

“It’s not like you have a choice,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m not giving you a different one.” 

“Well then,” Sans snarked, mock offended. His eyes trailed to you, and his eyebrows waggled for a moment. You snorted, taking another sip of symbolism. 

“If I had a better answer that you would accept, I’d give it,” you explained, looking at him with a smile. The little lights in his eyes shone bright; they were like little beacons, and you loved them. “But as I don’t, you’ll have to be content with that one.” 

“That I would accept...” Sans repeated slowly; his eye sockets closed a bit, narrowing in focus and skepticism. He was studying you, trying to figure you out, figure out where you were lying, or what you were withholding from him. 

You felt naked under his scrutinizing gaze, and looked back at your coffee once more. He was so intuitive that you couldn’t help but look away; you were afraid that if you kept looking into those eyes of his, he’d somehow pull your “craziness” straight out of your lips, and then you’d lose a new friend faster than you could finish your story. 

“Please don’t ask,” you said, and even you cringed at the helplessness in your voice. That was one thing that still bothered you after all those years; no matter what you did, how many times the world restarted, you couldn’t tell anyone. You did once, or twice, or a thousand times to a thousand different people, and every time, they called you crazy. Even when you tried to prove it by telling the future, they just scoffed, calling it magic. 

Well they weren’t wrong, you guess...

Either way, you couldn’t handle telling anyone anymore. It hurt too much when they avoided you. Heh... You had all the time in the world, but no one to share it with. But now time was rolling forward again, right? So that made this even worse. Now, if you told anyone, their judgement was permanent. 

“I won’t,” Sans said, and the seriousness in his voice made you look up. He was staring straight at you. “I wouldn’t dare ask about something that makes you dim like that,” he motioned toward your entire being, eyebrows pulling up in concern. “It must be a sin to make someone as bright as you lose your smile.” 

And there goes your face. You looked away quickly, touching your cheeks for a moment, begging them to cool down. Sans chuckling across from you helped none in the situation, and you ended up flipping him the bird, once again, without the bird. 

“The bird without the bird,” Sans said between chuckles, “How original. Haven’t seen that one before.” 

You looked up, scrunching your eyebrows together. That was different from last time. His eyes met yours, those shimmering orbs glistening with snarky mirth, and you forgot about your misgivings. How something as miniscule as little white lights took your breath away, you had no idea. Maybe it was their expressiveness? 

Who knew? 

“It’s my thing,” You said, “Too lazy to give the whole bird.” 

“A woman after my own heart,” Sans laughed, pressing his hands to his chest for a moment. You returned his laugh, plopping your elbows on the table and leaning forward. His eyes flicked down, and met yours again. “So,” he started, “How long have you been coming to this place, to have everyone know your name and order?” 

“Forever,” you answered, “long enough to know pretty much everything about everyone.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have much of a life,” you laughed, “well, anymore at least.” Sans raised an eyebrow, but you waved it off, pointing at Janice at the hostess podium. “That’s Janice. I’m assuming you’ve already met her.” Sans nodded, so you continued. “She’s nineteen, just graduated highschool, and is going to college to be a historian with a divination minor.” 

“Divination.” 

“Yeah, you know, seeing the future and whatnot with magic.” 

“Oh yeah, your town is full of mages, right?” 

“Little ones. Human mages aren’t powerful anymore. We kind of just do small things; assists, if you will.” 

“Okay. Two questions from that one.” Sans leaned forward, and you turned from staring at Janice to staring at him. You raised an eyebrow, ushering him to continue. “One,” he started, “assists?” 

“Yeah. Like, uhh...” You paused, trying to think of a way to explain it. “Well, we don’t really have enough magic to do big things. I mean, we can do some big things if we have enough practice and enough energy or something, but we mostly have little things we can do. Most people use their ability to assist in the development of something that already happens naturally.” You paused to take a breath, and a sip of your drink. “Lots of herbalists use their magic to increase the speed of growth or the health of their plants. Divinators infuse their tarot cards with magic for more accurate readings, home mages add a bit of magic to speed up the pre-heating of their ovens. Y’know,” you waved non-committally, “small things.” 

“Oh. Huh,” Sans nodded a bit, contemplative. 

“Second question?” You egged on, and he seemed to remember. 

“Oh. Right.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, “We?” 

“Oh!” You grinned, “I’m a Jack Mage.” 

“A... a what?” He asked, eyes completely baffled. You chuckled, holding out your hand, placing it flat on the table, palm upward. With a bit of concentration a small sprout of a plant appeared in the palm of your hand. You could do a lot more than this, but you weren’t about to show anyone that. The extent of your magical skills came from at least a few hundred cycles of practice. Your magical ability, to no one’s knowledge but your own, rivalled that of the strongest human mages, if not completely blowing them out of the water. The sprout was about an inch tall, and the soft light green of a new plant stretching it’s metaphorical limbs for the first time. Sans gawked, lifting a hand and reaching toward it. He paused for a moment, fingers a centimeter away from the fragile leaf before he finally committed, and touched it lightly. 

“AH!” You screamed, pulling your hand back and curling your face in pain. Sans panicked, eyes growing as wide as saucers. 

“Oh god it’s connected to you!? I’m sorry! Why didn’t you stop me? Oh shit are you okay? Fuck fuck!” He leaned forward, hands flailing in the air as if they had no idea what to do, and your pain quickly dissolved into laughter. He stopped, frozen for a moment as you lifted your hand to reveal that the plant was gone. He stared at your hand for a moment, and then, “... that didn’t hurt, did it?” 

“Nope!” 

“... I can’t beleaf you.” 

You shrugged, “I saw an opportunitree, and I took it!” 

“That wasn’t nice.” 

“It was funny, though.” 

“You do realize you just started a war.” His eyes were somewhere between absolutely serious and hilariously challenging. 

“A war?” You raised your eyebrows, accepting his challenge. “How can it be a war if you have no chance of winning?” 

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, I’ve had a lot of time to practice japery.” 

“And you’re saying I haven’t?” You raised an eyebrow, staring him down. He met your gaze, smile curling into something much more dubious. 

“It’s on.” He says simply, and, simply put, that’s all you needed. He held out his hand, as if shaking would be the final mark of the beginning of the war. But you were smarter than that. So you held out your hand, and instead gave him a slightly awkward fist-bump. His eyebrows raised at your action, and he revealed the buzzer stuck to his palm. “It’s so on.” He repeats. 

You laugh, and return to your coffee, taking a sip. It was almost empty, and the sugar always settled at the bottom, so the coffee was sweeter than you’d like, but you were used to it. The last few sips were always a bit too sweet. Oh well. “So what are your plans moving on from here?” You asked over the rim of your mug. 

“Mmm, well. Not sure. Our queen and human ambassador are the ones that are going to be doing the government stuff, so maybe my job is just to wait for them?” 

“That’ll be a pretty difficult adventure,” You muse, placing the now empty cup down. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys have a lot of troubles.” 

“Yeah, I suspect the same thing, but Frisk and Toriel are much more optimistic than me.”

“Frisk?” 

“The human ambassador. Say, when is the waiter going to take our order?” 

“Oh I don’t order breakfast, so he gets me my coffee, and then just leaves me be. He should be here in a couple of minutes to refill it, though. Is Frisk the one who was on the news this morning with the goat monster?” 

“Yeah that was her. And does that mean you don’t eat breakfast?” 

“Not anymore,” you shrug, “I just recently had to start paying attention to my finances again, so I’m not having breakfast until i’m sure I have all my ducks in a line.” 

“But it’s the most important meal of the day,” He frowns, and you aren’t sure if it’s fake, or if he’s genuinely concerned that you don’t eat breakfast. Both would fit his personality, to be honest. If you had his personality down pat, which you thought you did. 

“Eh,” you scrunch your nose. “Maybe for growing kids, but I’m much too old to worry about proper nutrition.” 

“You’re 23.”

“Much too old.” You emphasize, earning a chuckle from your counterpart. 

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” he says, and you almost burst into laughter at that. 

Actually. 

You did burst into laughter at that. You frightened the poor man when you were suddenly belting laughter, leaning forward and wiping a tear from your eye because if anyone knew what old felt like, it was you, and him not knowing that filled you with such conflicted feelings that all you could do was laugh. 

“Woah, was it something I said?” Sans’ eyes were wide, and you forced yourself to calm down. 

“No no, you’re fine. Sorry, sorry,” you wiped another tear from your eye. “Inside joke, I guess.” 

“Hmm.” He seemed dissatisfied, but accepted it. “Let me buy your breakfast?” 

“Pff. I don’t know if you can. What kind of currency did you have down under?” You asked, and the smirk that overtook Sans’s face told you it was gold. 

“Gold,” he affirmed your suspicion, pulling out a small handful of gold coins. 

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes, “Just hit all the cliches, won’t you?” 

“Buying a beautiful woman breakfast with gold. Didn’t know that was a cliche.” 

“Beautiful woman,” you repeated incredulously, “First cute, then shining, now beautiful. You’re hell bent on complimenting me to death, aren’t you?” You chuckled, but stopped when Sans looked at you with the weirdest expression. It was skeptical again, borderline... angry? No, angry wasn’t right. But it was definitely something. It only took a few words for you to realize what it was. 

“Cute,” his voice was slow, low, and calculated. “Shining.” He said, and you realized your mistake. That was last cycle. He never said that about you this time!

Shit he thinks you’re crazy. His face told the whole story! His eyes narrowed, and you were certain he was thinking about just how crazy you must be. 

Fffuck fuck fuck. 

“Enlightened, even?” He said, and you felt yourself freeze up. 

...what? 

Your eyes shot toward him, and the moment you made eye-contact, chills ran up your spine and down your arms. Your breath was gone, and you were pretty sure your hearing was too. 

He knew. 

And then he was gone. 

Or more specifically, the entire cafe was gone, and you were standing in front of a color you knew better than the back of your hand. 

That deep brown, mahogany red.


	3. If You're Anything like Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prev chapter ending: Both you and Sans realize that the other has knowledge of the resets. Then Time resets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm reaching the end of my semester, and I've got finals and shit. 
> 
> I'm getting writing in when I can, but I'm gonna say, I'd expect very little to almost no updates on any of my fictions until may 20th ish. 
> 
> I'm trying, but it's just not panning out how I'd like. Sanity and such, y'know. 
> 
> Its-a-snowdecahedron is my beta!

The very first time you found yourself in front of the stainless steel, you had paused, staring at the faux metal with scrunched eyebrows. The sugary coating on your morning pills had melted on your hand by the time you reached out and touched it, baffled. 

 

You had sat down on the ground in the kitchen, leaning against the cupboard, staring blankly at the stainless steel, trying to grasp what the  _ fuck  _ just happened. It had taken nearly 15 minutes for you to chalk it off as the strongest sense of daydreaming you had ever experienced, and stand again, restating your sentiment, and restarting your week with guarded skepticism. 

 

It only took .15 seconds for you to react to the sight of the mahogany door. Your hairs stood on end, your neck bristled, your eyes widened. Surprise bloomed, and almost immediately molted to reveal anger that twisted under the onslaught of confusion and relief, until you finally felt numb.

 

You didn’t even realize you were moving until your hand was pressed onto the grainy door, fingers lightly brushing the wood. You swallowed- your ears felt like cotton balls had been shoved into their deepest cavities. 

 

What-

 

You blinked. 

 

What-....?

 

It... You... 

 

Your hand was on the handle, twisting it and yanking the door open. Your feet were moving, pounding against the sidewalk right outside your house, the door just barely swinging shut and clicking locked behind you with a shimmer of magic. You noticed the burning in your lungs by the time you were halfway to the diner. You had nearly reached the front entrance when you tripped, stumbling across the ground but refusing to stop. You were up again, pounding through the glass double doors and earning a startled yelp from Janice. You barely acknowledged her as you scurried to your spot, tossing yourself into the booth and then locking your eyes on the front entrance, hands pressed on the cold table, jittering. 

 

“Hey, uhh, you okay?” Janice had followed you to your spot, worry evident on her features. You didn’t notice, though; you didn’t even look at her. Your heart was hammering. 

 

“Fine.” You answered, still staring at the doors. 

 

“Are you sure? You’re kinda late, and you just ran in here like you had an appointment with the man who killed the president or something.” 

 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You repeated, finally looking to her, “Has anyone unusual come in today? A skeleton?” 

 

“A skeleton?” Her eyes widened. “So you heard! The barrier! Oh my Go-” 

 

“Nevermind.”You interrupted her, not interested in her ramblings. She started, recoiling a bit at your short response. You looked toward the doors, “When you bring my coffee, can you bring a glass of ketchup as well?” 

 

“Ketchup??” Janice nearly choked, drawing your attention for a moment. She was looking at you like you were a body-snatcher. 

 

“Yeah.” You answered, giving her a soft smile, hoping it would be enough to dissuade her from asking more questions. Luckily, it was. Janice nearly scrunched her nose at you, and walked away. 

 

You returned to your sentry duty with a slight frown. Last time, Sans was here first, but this time, you had run the whole way here. So he’d be here within a few minutes, right? 

 

Right. 

 

You waited. 

 

Your coffee and the ketchup showed up, and you thanked Kevin with a wave and a smile.You let the single icecube melt, and then took a sip. 

 

The soft, bitter taste calmed your nerves only a little. You continued waiting. 

 

You finished your cup. Kevin came with another. Then another. The ketchup was most definitely warm by now. 

 

You finished your fourth. Fifth. Kevin came with a sixth and an inquiry on your health. You waved it off, still staring at the double doors, holding the cup in your hands. You took a sip, and was pretty sure Kevin had switched you to decaf. 

 

You stared at the doors, wondering  _ why  _ this bothered you so much. You’ve been living a repeated life for... who knows how long now! You spent nearly three decades traipsing across the country, and then settled down and began reading for the remaining countless amount of years. Hell, when time started again, all you felt was anxiety; duties and responsibilities you hadn’t had to do in  _ centuries  _ suddenly dropped on your shoulders, and your ability to function in society fell to the shitter. Technically, all you should feel is  _ elation  _ that you’ve returned to your comfort zone, but something just didn’t sit right with your soul... 

 

The seventh cup of coffee, and you finally resigned yourself to use the restroom. You returned, and started on an eighth. 

 

Was a large amount of time passing, or were you drinking your coffee quickly? You looked at the clock: it was six. 

 

Shit. Was he coming? He’d come. He knew you knew about Time’s fickleness. He wouldn’t just leave you alone. He wasn’t like that. You just knew it. 

 

...You just  _ knew  _ it. 

 

Little pinprick eyes swimming in wide eye sockets, a lazy smile, a contented drawl, a glass of ketchup. Horrible puns and  _ he knows.  _

 

You found yourself smiling. Was that it? Was that why you felt so discontent? Was it because you were lonely? Did finding someone new, someone who you could talk to without the tediousness of repetitive conversations, someone who you could share your stories and experiences with  _ excite  _ you? 

 

That’s what you were lacking... Relationships. Over the past forever, you had found yourself getting closer and closer to all the people in your little diner. You knew them inside and out, forward and backward, and yet they were still almost complete strangers. It was hard to make friends when they never remembered  _ decades  _ worth of conversation. 

 

So... to have someone  _ remember...  _ You found a soft, almost giddy smile tickling your lips; you quieted it with a sip of coffee, eyes slowly trailing from the clock back to the double doors. You paused, staring at the blank eye sockets in front of you. 

 

Your first thought was that Sans’s eyes without the glimmering lights were disappointingly dull, but mostly terrifying. 

 

Your second thought was much more vocal. 

 

“FUCK! SANS!” You screamed, jumping a good 4 inches in the air and dropping the coffee cup in your hand. The mug clattered on the table, and poured its contents all over your front. You gasped, hands flailing as you grabbed your shirt and yanked it away from your skin, hissing in pain as you flapped it back and forth, trying to cool it down. 

 

“Sorry,” you heard Sans say, and paused at the short, coldness of it. You looked up, actually  _ seeing  _ his face this time. The pinpricks in his eyes had returned, but they were dull enough to be completely missed. His brow was pulled tight, tired; his mouth turned down in a hard frown. You were sure you saw his shoulders quivering. His hands were clutching the edge of the table hard enough that you were afraid that either his bones might splinter, or the table would. You were reaching out your own hand and prying his phalanges from the table before you even realized you were leaning across the table. 

 

Either way, you pulled his hands from their tight positions, and cupped them in your own, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles. “Hey, hey hey,” you spoke quickly and softly, panicked and unsure how to comfort your new friend. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I, uhh... I didn’t like this shirt much anyway.” You forced out a laugh, squeezing his hands. 

 

“Not the  _ shirt,”  _ Sans spat, brow scrunching more. His hands clutched yours tighter, as if you were a ground. “The... the  _ everything!”  _ the frown on his face grew impossibly larger. “The fact that you’re here... you’re waiting for me... you  _ knew my name _ and I...”  His gaze flickered to you, pained and shameful. It tore your heart out. “And I  _ knew  _ you’d be here waiting, and I just left you here...” he looked down. 

 

“You were under no obligation to come back to me,” you assured with a light chuckle, shaking his hands a bit to keep his attention on you. He didn’t look up, rather staring at the seven empty cups carefully lined up on side of the table, the remnant drops of coffee dried on the brim and staining the bottom of each one. 

 

“You’ve been waiting.” He accused, voice low. His eyes trailed to the glass of ketchup, crusty on the top. 

 

“I knew you’d come.” you tried to get him to look at you, to see your assuring smile. He didn’t, and it made your heart pull tighter. 

 

“How long have you been here?” He nearly whispered, and your lack of answer was enough for him. He deflated more, shoulders dropping. “How could you be so sure I’d return?” 

 

“I knew you would.” 

 

“But I didn’t...” 

 

“I knew you  _ would.”  _

 

“And if I never did show up?” He let out a huff of air, finally looking up at you. The moment your eyes met, your heart calmed down. 

 

“I would have waited,” you explained, giving him a soft smile. His eyes widened in surprise at your surety, and the crease in his brow  _ finally  _ faded. 

 

“ _ Why?”  _ He asked, and the amount of self-loathing in that one sentence nearly had you lunging across the table to smack some sense into him. It made you want to tell him that he was amazing, fantastic, that he had no reason to hate himself... but to be completely honest, you barely knew the guy. Anything you said would be empty lies in attempt to get him to smile.

 

And that never helped. 

 

So instead, you gave him truth. “Because if you’re  _ anything  _ like me, then the idea of finally having someone to talk to is too good to  _ not  _ chase.” 

 

His eyes widened, then his frown shattered with a snort. His hands tightened on yours as his eye sockets clicked shut for a moment. He leaned over slightly, snickering. You’d ask why he was laughing, but you didn’t mind that much. He looked so much better smiling. “You!” He laughed, catching your gaze again, “You make everything sound so  _ simple!”  _

 

“It is, though!” You retorted, scrunching your eyebrows together. “And I have proof!” 

 

“Oh really?” He looked at you skeptically, and you just grinned. 

 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” 

 

He paused, the easy smile on his face twisting contemplatively. “I guess you’re right...” he looked down at the glass of ketchup, face falling again. “It took me a while, though...” 

 

Shit! No! You just got him smiling! Uhh! Think of something! Bone puns! Those work! Umm. uhh...uhh....

 

“You just wanted to see if I would... uhh... verte _ wait _ for you...or....something....” You trailed off, face bursting into red almost immediately. That was  _ bad!  _

 

“That was bad.” You heard a smirk in his voice, and calmed down a bit. “Practice what you preach, beautiful.” 

 

“Eh,” You shrug, “I don’t have skeleton puns on demand.” 

 

“You should.” He chuckled, leaning his elbows on the table. You smiled; he was finally relaxing. Good. You were sure he wasn’t here earlier for a reason: probably something stressful if his demeanor gave any hint. You’d like to think that he knows about the cycles, and was dealing with it in some way.... Maybe you could interrogate him later, try to figure out what the fuck was actually going on... 

 

But for now? For now, making your new skeleton friend feel at peace was your priority. You didn’t like seeing him upset; it reminded you too much of echoes of how you felt when you resigned yourself to an eternity of repetition. 

 

You had given up. There was no  _ point  _ in doing anything if all progress just got  _ erased  _ a week later. All your friends had grown boring, all the strangers you walked by on the streets became just coding... pre-programmed AI’s. You were the only  _ human  _ in a world of robots. Of COURSE you had fallen into a dark place. But, you remembered, you had also pulled yourself  _ out  _ of that dark place. 

 

You remember the morning, three days into a cycle, when you were staring at the ceiling above your couch, wondering how long your  _ torture  _ would last when an idea had popped in your head. It nagged at you, unsettled you, drew your attention. 

 

What if you were an AI as well? What if the only difference between you and them was that you had somehow glitched out, and gained self awareness? What if everything you did was just coding reacting accordingly; what would an AI with your personality do in this situation? Well of course, they’d have an existential crisis, as any human would. They’d probably travel the world for a few decades, and then give up, falling into crippling depression and stumbling along with everyday life with no hope for the future, and no hope for themselves. 

 

To put it simply, they would give up. 

 

....

 

No FUCK that! Fuck the system! Fuck the game! Fuck it all, you’re NOT an AI, and you were NOT going to give up! And even if you WERE an AI, you were at least different! You had self-awareness, so it’s about time you started acting like it!! 

 

So you did. You started acting in ways against your character. You did things not “socially acceptable.” You invited yourself to sit at every table in the diner, prying into the life and times of the previously blank AI’s that passed you by. You went to the library, and spent an entire week sneakily tearing papers out of the books and putting them into the return bin. You tried to convince the entire town to impeach the mayor! 

 

But all these things you did... they could still fall under the desperate attempts for a self aware AI to prove that they were still in control... 

 

Damnit! 

 

So... what could you do? What could you do to dash your panic once and for all? What was the  _ one  _ thing a self-aware AI would  _ never  _ do? 

 

You accepted it. You relinquished control, and decided that maybe life was better if you just didn’t  _ think  _ about it. 

 

You didn’t  _ give up,  _ perse, as you more withdrew yourself from the battle. What did having or not having control mean to someone who didn’t care? Nothing. And how much control over your happiness did something have if you didn’t care about it? 

 

Nothing. 

 

Sans has not come to the same conclusion that you have. You could tell by the resigned look in his eye, the self-loathing, the desperation. Maybe he already realized he was an AI, and he did exactly what you  _ didn’t.  _

 

He gave up. 

 

And you weren’t going to have it.

 

“Hey, Kev!” You shouted, drawing the waiters attention from across the diner. He was by your table in a matter of moments, giving a cold glare to Sans before it transformed into surprise at the skeletal structure of your companion. He stuttered, but you didn't’ let him continue, pulling a twenty from your purse... nah. Two twenties. It’s not like they won’t end up in your purse again in a few days... You handed the two bills to Kev with a smile and a wink. “Keep the change,” you added, eliciting a blush and a thanks from the towering beanpole of a man. You laughed, standing up, and grabbing Sans’s hand, pulling him up after you. “C’mon,” you grinned, already walking toward the door, Sans stumbling behind. 

 

“Woah, hold on, speedy, where are we going?” 

 

“This is still technically your first day on the surface, right?” You confirmed as you pushed the double doors open, tugging Sans out of the diner. 

 

“Technically...” He trailed off...

 

“So you haven’t had your first  _ night  _ on the surface!” You grinned, finally turning to look back at him, releasing his hand. His eyes were wide in confusion, and it was adorable. You turned, beginning your trek back to your house, continuing, “Which means you haven’t seen the sunset! Or the stars!” The silence behind you didn’t dissuade your conversing. You could hear his footsteps behind you: the odd shuffle of padded slippers was unmistakable. You picked up the pace. “So, I was thinking my house, dinner, a bundle of blankets, a telescope, and all the time in the world!” 

 

“Heh, I  _ did  _ promise myself I’d go stargazing on the first night out...” Sans drawled from behind you. 

 

“See?” You whipped around, walking backwards, watching him trail behind you, “It works out perfectly!” 

 

“But  _ your  _ house? At night? I mean I’m all for spending the night with a gorgeous woman, but aren’t we moving a little too fast?” He winked; you rolled your eyes. 

 

“How do you expect to stargaze inside a house, Sans?” You questioned with raised brows, giving him pause. Satisfied, you turned to face front again; your house was a good hundred feet away. “How does pizza sound?” 

 

“Pizza works,” Sans affirmed, recovering quickly and falling in place next to you. You nodded, pulling out your phone. You hit the power button, and the screen lit up, already open to your favorite pizza parlor. Sans raised an eyebrow, “Is pizza your regular dinner, or did you already have this planned?” He jested. 

 

“Neither, actually,” you responded, “My phone is charmed with a minor divination spell. It can see the commands given to it two seconds before I hit the power button.  So by the time I turn on my phone, what I want is already open.” 

 

“Whaaat!” Sans breathed, plucking your phone from your hands. “Humans can do that?” 

 

You shrugged. “Normally, no. A charm like this is a really high end spell only capable by the Elders... You won’t see it on pretty much any phone by mine.” You took your phone back, ordering two pizzas and a fuck-ton of ketchup. 

 

“You’re an elder?” He glanced at you skeptically. 

 

You chuckled, hitting the “checkout” button. “No, I’m not an elder. I  _ know  _ an elder, though.” You smiled. When you first got this phone charmed by Elder James, you had thought that it was the  _ niftiest  _ thing in the world. Now, with your copious amounts of practice, you could do a charm like this in your sleep... Ah. How time changes things. A screen asking for your address popped open, and you hit a small button on the bottom right. A small box popped up on the screen, and you scrawled a little picture: three lines straight down, the middle one a bit longer, and then one line horizontally slashing across those. You finished it off with a little kiss of magic from your finger. 

 

“Ah,” Sans stopped, “okay then.” You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow. The phone blinked for a moment, and then the box minimized. The empty address section was now filled with your information, as was your card information and your signature. When you looked back down at your phone and hit the confirm button, Sans finally questioned, “What was that? The box and the picture.” 

 

“Oh!” You smiled, “That’s something the elders put into place. All mages are registered in the World Mage Database, and we chose a symbol that reflects us, and then we get our magical signature recorded.” You lifted your finger, letting a spark of magic dance on the tip of it. It was tiny, barely enough to even be noticed, and not  _ near  _ enough to do  _ anything,  _ but every living being who had magic had their own magical “signature.” Like a fingerprint. That tiny little spark was enough for Sans to recognize your magical imprint; he had tasted it once before when you had created the plant in the palm of your hand. 

 

“So you just put your insignia and your magic spark, and it recognized you?” 

 

“And put in all my information in the phone, and authorized the purchase!” You grinned, “It’s 1% magic and 99% technology, but if it ain’t the niftiest shit you’d ever seen a phone do, I’ll eat my shoe!” 

 

The way Sans laughed at that made you fear that you had just put your foot in your mouth. When he looked up at you, the evil glint in his eye confirmed your suspicion, “Our phones come custom fitted with jetpacks and laser style pea-shooters.”  

 

“... Are you going to make me eat my shoe?” 

 

“I shoe-r will.” 

 

“What if I told you that eating my shoe is probably detrimental to my health.” 

 

“You shoe-lda thought of that before you went and made a bet.” 

 

You swallowed, glancing away for a moment... Finally, “I’m not eating my shoe.” 

 

“Fine with me,” He snickered, dropping it easier than you thought he would. “So where did you get your symbol inspiration from?” 

 

“My coffee,” You chuckled, turning toward your house. You looked up at the roof, and then toward your little garage. You walked to it, unlatching the little lock on the left, and swinging the large door upward; you had one of the old do-it-yourself garages. You didn’t like the mechanical ones; they were just too loud! “Three-to-one, like my order.” You walked into the garage, Sans quick behind. Your garage was rather empty, besides an old bed and a ladder tilted against the wall on the left, scattered boxes of papers and kitchenware along the right, and a disassembled telescope near the back. 

 

“How unique.” You didn’t need to turn toward him to know he was rolling those lights in his eyes. He found his way toward the bed, leaning against it. His eyes followed your movements as you snagged the ladder and hefted it under your arm.  

 

“Hey, don’t judge me.” You playfully warned, carrying the ladder outside. “I happen to  _ like  _ my symbol!” 

 

“Fine, fine.” He pushed off the bed, following you as you opened the ladder, pushing it close to the side of the house. You nodded in satisfaction. 

 

“Lemme just go grab the blankets, and then we can set up the telescope and stuff,” You quickly spat out, already galloping into the house, leaving a slightly confused skeleton looking at a ladder behind. 

 

Grabbing blankets was rather easy; you were a bit of a blanket hoarder. You snagged a good 10 blankets ranging from throws to quilts, all some derivative of beige or brown. You stopped by the laundry-room and tossed 5 in the dryer on your way out. For when it got colder. You were nothing if not a great host. When you trailed back outside, you found Sans standing proudly next to a fully set-up telescope. You blinked, hands still overflowing with blankets. 

 

“We had one of these underground,” He explained, “So I knew how to put one of these together.” 

 

“Well, yes, but...” you blinked, looking at the telescope, “How are we going to get it on the roof like that?” 

 

“The...” Sans looked to the side, “roof...” 

 

“We’re stargazing on the roof, dufus!” You laughed, walking toward the ladder with your blankets. 

 

“Oh, well... That explains the ladder.” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head. You chortled, dropping the pile of blankets on the ground, grabbing one, and bundling it into a tight ball. A quick chuck, and it was on the roof. You reached for the second, but paused when your hand collided with Sans’s. You looked up, catching his eye. Your face was inches from his; your heart skipped a beat as he smiled at you, scooping up the remaining blankets in his arms. “Allow me,” he purred, making your mouth dry. 

 

Jesus. How could a skeleton be so  _ sexy.  _

 

Right as you were sure you’d about faint, he was gone. No puff of smoke, no shimmer. Just gone. You vaguely remember him doing this this morning, but you guess you had blocked it out mostly. But now, as he called for you from the roof and you looked up to see him sprawled on the shingles, blankets spread out, telescope set up perfectly, you were suddenly struck with the realization of just how diminutive your magic was in comparison to... to  _ that! _

 

You weren’t quite sure if the way your heart thumped in your chest was in awe, in fear, or something  _ else.  _

 

“You coming?” He questioned, shaking you from your frozen state. You weakly nodded, clambering up the ladder to join him on the roof. You settled next to him, facing the sun as you wrapped yourself in one of the blankets, sighing contentedly. Sans chuckled at your face, and shifted a bit to face you. The sun hadn’t gone down yet; around this time of year, it set at around 7:30. A quick glance at the clock: 6:45. You had a bit of time.

 

You took a breath. Now was a good enough time, you guess.    
  


“So,” you started, glancing down at him. “I get this blinking feeling that you know what’s causing the time-jumping.” 

 

“Go straight for the jugular, why don’t you?” 

 

“Okay, one. You don’t have a jugular. Two. You knew this was coming. Three. We’ve got nearly 45 minutes till the sun sets, so we’ve got time. Four. It’s better to get it over wi-” 

 

“Okay, okay! I get it, geez.” Sans chuckled, interrupting your mini-rant. When you were silent, he sighed, “I guess I did know this was coming... Have you ever played video games before?” 

_____________________

_____________________

 

“So, let me get this straight.” You finally spoke up, breaking the 10 minute lapse of silence once Sans had finished his story. He blinked, pulling his attention from the telescope and turning it toward you. You were wrapped in enough blankets that all he could see of you was your face and a tuft of hair. He had to stop himself from chuckling; you were already so relaxed around him, you obviously didn’t care if you looked like a burrito in his presence. It set his soul at ease to see someone so trusting, but at the same time it made him vaguely worried for your general well being. 

 

Nah. You could handle yourself. You  _ did  _ have some of the strongest human magic in the world, according to you... His thoughts quickly flashed to your proud face when you explained the two-second divination charm you had put on your phone, and he lost a bit of his confidence in your safety again. Was that  _ really  _ the extent of human magic: a convenient charm on a phone? Pah. 

 

Oh wait you were still waiting for a reply. “Uhh-yeah. Basically. Yeah.” 

 

You chewed on your lip for a few moments, eyes trailing to the sky. He couldn’t look away from you. “But, time is still resetting, but just with a different origin point...” You hummed for a moment, and then looked back at him. “Why?” 

 

“Well,” Sans found himself abandoning the telescope in favor of shoving an empty pizza box out of the way, and plopping down next to you. He snagged one of the blankets that you weren’t using, long since collected from the dryer  _ and  _ chilled to match the cold air. Eh. Oh well. He rolled it up and tossed it behind him, leaning back and using it as a pillow. Soon, you flopped backward with him, squirming and rolling till your little burrito self was facing his direction. “Frisk says it’s because another game started.” 

 

“Another game?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But no one out here wants to capture or kill Frisk... And they’re not trying to escape anymore...” 

 

“Yeah, but Frisk says it’s a different type of game.” He paused, watching your face scrunch up as if you were annoyed that everything was so  _ complicated,  _ but you recovered quickly, waiting once again for him to continue. “They compared it to, uhh.. Well to quote the bugger, it’s a “diplomatic dating sim...” 

 

“A  _ what?”  _ You huffed a laugh; your breath tickled Sans’s cheek, and he turned his head to look at you straight on. The way you froze up, eyes caught in headlights now that his nose cavity nearly touched your nose filled his soul with pride, and tugged his attention away from the conversation, and toward you. You recovered quickly though, eyes calming and mouth relaxing into a peaceful smile. 

 

“A dating sim, but with Diplomats instead of suitors, I guess?” He laughed, “I’ve never played a dating sim before, but Frisk says that it includes keeping different stats up in order to pass different “checks” throughout the game.” He air quoted at “checks,” and was rewarded with laughter on your part. 

 

“So,” you mused, “what happened when we reset yesterday?” 

 

“Frisk failed the first check. Apparently, they needed one more  _ charisma  _ point in order to convince my brother to not greet the Mayor with his ‘special attack.’” 

 

“So what happened?” Your voice was low, enraptured by Sans’s words. Or at least that’s what he’d like to think. You were probably more worried about the Mayor.

 

“The mayor didn’t, uhh... Yeah he didn’t appreciate that very much.” Sans chuckled, imagining some short, stocky mayor angrily jumping and dodging flying femurs until finally collapsing on the ground with a curse on his lips toward Monsterkind. When he heard your giggle next to him, he assumed you imagined the same thing. “Time reset shortly after that. Heh. I nearly  _ strangled  _ the kid when I realized time had reset again.” He fell silent for a moment, basking in self loathing. What did Frisk do to deserve his anger? They were only doing their best! He sighed, looking back at the sky. 

 

“If... If it helps any, I almost broke down my door the moment I realized,” you provided, voice soft, reassuring. The burrito that was your body flopped backward till you could gaze at the sky as well. Sans could see a small smile on your lips from his peripherals. His soul thrummed in his chest. “Luckily, my body knows to act better than my mind knows how to think,” you chuckled, “I was at the diner with a cup of coffee in my hand by the time I realized I should wait for you.” 

 

_ Wait for you,  _ you said, and it nearly floored Sans with emotions. You barely knew him, but the moment you were faced with an adversary, you put your faith in him, and waited. You  _ trusted  _ him to find you at the diner again, and he... 

 

He left you hanging. He got angry at Frisk, yelled at Frisk, and then disappeared into the forest, blasting chunks of trees and ground and rocks as he screamed  _ not again! Not another game! Why? Why!?  _ All while you so patiently waited for him at the diner. 

 

You even ordered him a glass of ketchup. 

 

You waited for  _ 8 hours _ for him. And even after waiting for that long, you weren’t upset. You still smiled at him. You still tried to cheer him up while he was upset. Your soul still shimmered and pulsed with with bright, beautiful light. 

 

But... Why? He found himself looking at you again; your eyes had shut, and you were humming nearly silently. He could hear a note here, or a note there; it wasn’t a connected tune, more just random notes that somehow seemed to just  _ belong  _ where you put them. The notes trailed to a stop though, and your smile slowly faded away. Your eyes scrunched for a moment; the blankets wrapped around you shifted and squirmed as you moved inside them. Hands appeared near your face, and you pressed your palms to your eyes, letting out a soft, shuddering breath. 

 

And just as he realized you were near tears, they were gone. You blinked a few times, turning to him with a tired smile that echoed your words from earlier today. 

 

_ “Because if you’re anything like me, then the idea of finally having someone to talk to is too good  _ not  _ to chase.”  _

 

If  _ you  _ were anything like  _ him _ ... You were lonely. You would have sat at that diner for  _ months  _ waiting for him if he didn’t come, for just the inkling of a hope that you’d find a kindred spirit for the first time in forever. 

 

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” his mouth moved before he even thought about what he was saying, but the blubbered snort it elicited from you was reward enough. “It, uhh. It won’t happen again.” 

 

“Mmm” was your only response, but you wiggled your arms the rest of the way free of the blankets, and your hands found his. You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, and he was sure you were gripping his soul instead of his metacarpals. You closed your eyes, and the conversation was over. 

 

He told himself to watch the stars; he wanted to see them move across the sky as the night passed by, but he found himself watching your face slowly relax into sleep instead. 

 

He followed your example shortly after, and you danced in the stars in his dreams. 

 

When he woke in the morning to face the warm, glimmering reds of the sunrise and found his hand still intermingled with yours, connecting his position on the brick red shingles with your position in a mass of coffee colored blankets, and he saw the cold-chapped red blush of your cheeks, he suddenly found himself much more accepting of the color red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for this fiction has been OVERWHELMING! I love you guys so much!


	4. Not all it's Whipped up to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New locations! Astronomer's and Astrologer's corner! 
> 
> New Quests: Flowers from Algernon, and A Latte Tea for a Lot o' laTEA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses. 
> 
> I apologize.
> 
> I'm trying.
> 
> I'm..... /really/... trying.

Tak!

 

“Mmmm...” 

 

...

 

Tak tak!

 

“Mmmm.” 

 

....

  
  


Ktcchhh! Tonk!

 

“Uh!” Sans shot bolt upright, sockets wide, a hand shooting to the side of his throbbing skull. The little lights in his eyes darted around in alarm. Next to him was the burrito of blankets that was you, the little tuft of hair sticking out of the top his only marker that you were still under the mountain of cloth. By his feet was a small cluster of rocks, and by his-

 

Thunk!

 

“AHH!” Sans shouted as something smacked against the side of his head again. He whipped toward it, and watched as the offending rock rolled over the slanted roof, and clattered to the waiting hands below.

 

Wait. 

 

“Frisk!” Sans whispered harshly, shooting a glance to the burrito next to him. You stirred; he heard a muffled moan before you settled once more, the blankets seeming to deflate of energy as you fell back to sleep. With a relieved sigh, he turned back to the rock-thrower, just in time to catch their hands whipping through the air, painting pictures he easily recognized. 

 

_ I need help. _

 

He was by their side instantly, patting his hands over their shoulders and checking their face for injuries. “Help? Whaddya need, kiddo? I thought fighting was over...” A pause. “How did you find me?” 

 

A silent laugh, and then a finger pointed at the roof followed by more fingers dancing through the air. 

 

_ I need her for the game,  _ Frisk explained, their face screwed up in concentration and confusion as they looked at the mass of blankets on the roof. Floating above you, presumably only seen by Frisk, was a small blue arrow, bouncing up and down over your figure. Frisk glanced left a bit, frowning at the hovering words in their peripherals. 

 

Side Quests

Active:

**Three.Two. One!**

_ Everyone needs a little help in their quest for love! Finding the Quest Master should be no difficult feat, but getting them on your side might not be as easy as one, two, three! _

_ Objectives: _

_ Ask the Mayor about getting help about the town.  _

_ Visit the Diner.  _

_ Ask about Three-to-One.  _

**_Find Three to One_ **

 

Frisk rolled their eyes, watching the bouncing blue “objective” arrow. Sure, Underground wasn’t that hard to figure out where to go either (Hell, go  _ right,  _ and you’re probably going in the right direction), but did this new game really think they needed a flashing  _ arrow  _ to tell them how to, “Oh, just go right on down that street, hon! She’s the fifth house on the south side, the one with the pretty stained glass window above the front door! Oh Wait! You can bring her her coffee! HOld on.... Here ya’ go! And, uhh... Here’s my number, if you ever want to, uhh, hang out...sometime...heh...” 

 

**Charisma Points! +1**

**Charisma Count: 4**

**NEW Boost! Gossip: Temporary Charisma boost: +2**

**Total Charisma points: 6**

**New Ally! Janice Joined the cause!**

 

  * ****Spell availability: Minor Divination! find location of one person per day!****


  * **Booste available: Gossip! +2 Charisma for 5 hours!**



 

**Total Ally Count: 1**

 

Good god, if flirting with level 1 humans was that easy, Frisk was going to have an army of lovers by the end of the  _ week!  _

 

“Her?” Sans repeated, looking up at the roof. “What’s she got to do with it?” 

 

_ Something about hints or whatever,  _ Frisk explained, eyes still glued to your figure on the roof. 

 

“...Hints?” 

 

Frisk only nodded, and then looked at Sans expectantly.  _ Well? Are you going to go wake her up?  _

 

“Woah, a little demanding there, kid!” Sans laughed, holding his hands out in surrender when Frisk huffed, “Sorry! We were up pretty late last night.” 

 

A raised eyebrow and a snarky grin. 

 

“Not like that!” Sans quickly defended, face tinting blue. “She, ah, she showed me the stars...” Sans trailed off, looking up at the sky dreamily. A hand shaking in his peripherals pulled his attention back to the impatient child. 

 

_ Do you expect us to just sit here and wait for her to wake up then? I don’t know how long until the next check-point!  _

 

Frisk did. It was in a week. But if Frisk told Sans that, he’d probably have them waiting  _ eternally  _ for Three-To-One to wake up. So, instead, Frisk decided that they “didn’t know” the next check-point, so Sans would  _ really hurry it up!  _

 

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do...” Sans grumbled, blinking back to the roof and staring at the tuft of hair that was your head. How was he supposed to wake you up? Call your name? Nudge you?

 

He opted for scratching the top of your head. He touched the top of your head gingerly, fanning out his fingers across your scalp-

 

His phalanges quickly got stuck in your hair, strands somehow weaving through his bones and latching onto his distal phalanxes. In slight panic, he recoiled, only getting about an inch from your scalp before your head jerked toward him with the force of his yanking. 

 

“Ow!” You yelped from inside the blanket-ritto; the mass of cloth began squirming and undulating as you attempted to free yourself, pulling your head away from Sans’s hand. He panicked, trying his best to follow your movements as to not hurt you anymore, and failing.  “Ow ow ow!!!” You complained, hands pushing outward and finally breaking free from the blanket-ritto. You flailed. Sans panicked. 

 

POP! 

 

You froze, the pulling sensation of your scalp immediately disappearing, but the feeling of something being on the top of your head....not... You quickly sat up, hands finding your hair instantly, blood draining from your face as you felt the familiar.... Hand... shape... 

 

You took a slow breath in, spider-walking your hands up the fingers of the hand on your head, trying to feel for the arm...

 

There was no arm. Just one disconnected skeletal hand locked in a loving embrace with your eternally-knotted morning hair. You whipped around, instantly meeting eyes with the absolutely shell-shocked skeleton behind you, eyes wide as saucers, handless-arm hovering aimlessly in the air. 

 

“U-uhh-” He stammered, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his skull, eye-sockets empty, smile panicking. 

 

“Well,” you started slowly, a small smirk growing on your face, “It seems we’re in a...  _ hairy  _ situation.” 

 

He blinked. 

 

“I gotta  _ hand  _ it to ya,” you continued, pinching your lips together for a moment to hide a snicker, “I didn’t think you’d  _ fall apart  _ so easily.”

 

He blinked again; you felt his hand twitch in your hair. Finally, the lights in his eyes seemed to flicker on again, and his smile lost it’s panic. Relief. Ah. “Heh... Staying together is, uhh...  _ knot  _ my strong suit, tibia honest...” 

 

Your giggles filled the air, and you released the hand in your hair, looking at the sky for a moment. A frantic clapping coming from downward caught your attention, though, and your eyes shot downward, catching the small child by your front door. They clapped above their head, obviously trying to get your attention. The moment you looked over, their clapping stopped, and their hands started flapping through the air wildly; it looked... vaguely familiar. 

 

_ Want....give....hand?  _ You somehow pulled from the flurry of fingers. You scrunched your eyebrows for a moment before you realized. 

 

“Oh!” You snapped, pointing at the kid. You recognized some of those hand signals from some of the books in the library from... oh shit, like at least 400 resets ago. “That’s Sign Language, isn’t it?” The kid’s eyes widened for a moment before they were nodding their head happily, smile filled with elation. Their hands sped up even more, pulling a laugh from you as you tried to grasp what they were saying. “Woah!” You laughed, “Slow down, kid, I’ve got... uhh... That was ‘you,’ wasn’t it? ‘Coffee...?’ Oh! That was ‘game!’ ... I don’t know any of those one- okay. Okay. Kid. Kid! Slow down!” 

 

“They’re askin’ ya if you’re Three-To-One, if you know about your role in the game, and if you can help them rack up some, uhh... Charisma points?” 

 

“...What points?” 

 

The kid’s excitement deflated almost immediately at your words, and their hands moved at lightning speed once more. Sans quickly translated. “They’re sayin’ that you’re apparently the ‘clue guru’ of the new game, and you’re s'posed to know all the secrets and hints of the game.” 

 

“Clue... Guru?” You asked, turning back to Sans in confusion. He shrugged. You felt his hand twitch in your hair. “I don’t think... I’ve ever signed up to be a clue guru...” You heard a heavy breath from below, and turned back to the kid, who looked both annoyed and defeated at the same time. 

 

**Frisk’s Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 25%**

 

Well Shit. Who are you to disappoint a small mute child? “I mean, I  _ do  _ know the town like the back of my hand... I can help where I can?” You offered, reaching up to scratch the back of your head. You hit Sans’s hand again, recoiled, hand floating in the air for a moment, and then awkwardly dropped your arm to your side again. The kid looked up at you, hope reinvigorated. Holy. Shit. They looked like you had just given them a hundred bucks! Their eyes glittered, their hands soared through the air. 

 

Sans, the wonderful soul he was, translated. 

 

“Do you know where the flower shop is? Who's the best people to talk to for charisma points? What’s the Mayor’s weakness? Where do I sleep? What is-” 

 

“WOAH!” You hollered, holding your hands out, “Hold on, you’re going too fast, kid! I haven’t even gotten your name!” 

 

The kid did one quick sign in the air, and Sans deadpanned. “Frisk.” 

 

“...Okay well there’s one answer. Can we slow down a bit, though? I’m still on a roof, without coffee, and with a skeleton hand stuck in my hair.” 

 

“All easily solved problems,” Sans provided, taking a step toward you. His stub-of a wrist touched your shoulder, and you were in front of Frisk, standing now, on the ground. You didn’t even blink, but you wished you had. At least then you’d have had half a millisecond to prepare. Instead, you recoiled in shock at the sudden change of scenery and position, flailing backward into Sans’s waiting hands. 

 

Err.

 

Hand. 

 

*Shudder*

 

“Well that’s one problem solved,” Sans snickered as you hyperventilated. “Now we’ve just gotta  _ hand _ le the coffee and the... y’know.” His hand shifted in your hair again, scratching your scalp once, twice, and then somehow tangling itself more. 

 

“If you keep doing that, your hand is going to be an eternal fixture atop my head.” You pointed out. Sans chuckled awkwardly, pulling a snicker from Frisk as well. You smiled; they were both so cute! And, for some reason, you felt... kindred... with them. Like all three of you shared a secret that no one else did....

 

Oh. 

 

Right. 

 

You did. 

 

“So anyway,” You digressed, walking toward your door, and touching the handle. A kiss of magic, and the door unlocked. You opened it, and with a grand wave of your hand, ushered the pair inside. “I can make us breakfast?” 

 

The hunger that crawled over Frisk’s face was answer enough. They scrambled past you, running into your house and quickly finding your dining room. They seated themselves, kicking their legs back and forth underneath them, smiling wide. You laughed, following them inside, Sans right behind you, and closed your door, locking it behind you. “Lemme just go to the bathroom,” you said, motioning toward your hair, “I’m gonna get this free.” You laughed. “You can just wait with Frisk for a while, yeah?” 

 

“Uhh, yeah.” Sans responded, watching you walk away, presumably to the bathroom. He meandered to the dining room as well, plopping in a chair next to Frisk. The kid looked up at him, and he smiled. “So, kiddo, what’cha think?” 

 

_ They’re nice! _

 

“Yeah.” 

 

_ Like, REALLY nice!  _ Frisk signed with big, sweeping motions to portray just how “nice” they thought you were. It made Sans laugh. 

 

“Yeah, you should see her  _ soul,  _ Frisk! It’s like the  _ sun!”  _

 

Frisk waggled their eyebrows again, flapping their fingers in the air.  _ Is she off limits to flirt with then?  _

 

Sans felt the blush immediately, and coughed quietly. “That, uhh... Yeah. That would be nice.” 

 

_ No promises!  _ Frisk gave Sans a snarky look, and then broke into giggles at Sans’s face. 

 

“Hey, kiddo! She’s way too old for you!” 

 

_ I’m supposed to flirt with the  _ **_mayor,_ ** _ and you’re saying she’s too old for me! The mayor’s like, 80!  _

 

“And she’s like, three thousand!” 

 

_ Technically,  _ Frisk eyebrow waggled,  _ I am too!  _

 

“I hate you.” 

 

“What did Frisk do to you?” You called, walking into the room with an eyebrow raised. Sans stuttered; Frisk giggled. You shook your head in mock disappointment, and tossed something toward Sans. He instinctively reached out with his hand- oh shit it’s a stump right now! The object, his hand, rebounded off his stump and flopped to the ground with a clatter of bones. 

 

He stared at it for a moment, sweat dripping down the side of his skull. 

 

You and Frisk burst into laughter, both doubling over as he, blue as the sky, reached for, grabbed, and reconnected his hand. 

 

“Your! Face!  HAhahaha!!! It’s! Haha! You! And the stub!” You blubbered. Frisk’s hands flopped through the air like they were trying to say something, but their laughter made it nearly impossible to read their shaking hands. 

 

“I’ll dunk you both.” Sans threatened, albeit emptily. The room was shimmering with Soul Light; he only noticed now how your soul compared with Frisk’s. Frisk’s soul shimmered with light like yours did, brighter than any other human or monster he’d seen, but not as bright as yours. He briefly pondered. Was it because of what Frisk had seen underground, while you lived up here without the atrocities of... death... and death... and death... 

 

Or was it because Frisk was a kid, so their child-like mind was not nearly affected as much as an adults was? The simplicity of a kid’s mind would explain how a soul could only brighten so much from so much repeated time... he thinks... 

 

He didn’t know human science well. Whatever. He’d just enjoy being surrounded by these two people, enjoy watching you gasp for air from laughing so hard. 

 

“Ahhhh, it’s too early to be laughing this hard,” you breathed, trying to calm yourself down, “I need my coffee.” 

 

Frisk gasped, drawing both Sans and your attention before they jumped out of the chair, and bounded toward the front door. 

 

Open. Slam!

 

You blinked, and then looked at Sans, who shrugged, explaining, “They do what they want.” 

 

Open. Slam! 

 

Frisk came running back with a travel-cup in their hand, nearly throwing it at you in their excitement. You floundered as they shoved the cup in your hand, and then almost immediately recognized the cup. “My coffee!” You exclaimed, popping the top off the cup and looking at the light brown liquid. “Kid, you just earned yourself SO many points in my book!”

 

**Charisma points! +1**

**Charisma count: 5**

**Total Charisma points: 7**

 

**New ally! 321 joined the cause!**

 

  * ****Spell Availability: Insider Knowledge! Get Clues and help one to three times a day!****


  * **Spell Availability: Spell cataloging! All available spells from other allies are also available through 321!**


  * **Marker of 321 General location, within 15 miles, has been added to the map!**



 

**Total Ally Count: 2**

 

**Quest completed! +**

 

“Oh, it’s cold,” you complained, turning and retreating into the kitchen. “Easily fixed though!” You hollered back to the dining room; Sans heard the microwave door open and close, followed by obnoxious beeps, and then a soft hum. “Thirty seconds oughtta do it,” you mumbled to yourself. “Ma! Breakfast now!” 

 

Sans chuckled at your little exclamation, and watched as Frisk bounded into the kitchen, no doubt to offer their help in making breakfast. 

 

I.E: lovingly petting the eggs and secretly eating the batter. 

 

**Cooking breakfast with friends!**

**Frisk's Stress Level Decreased!**

**Total: 15%**

 

“So, I’ve got, uhh, syrup, jam, whipped cream, and nutella. What’cha want?” You questioned as you dropped a plate brimming with pancakes in the middle of your dining room table. Frisk sat at the end of the table, batter all over their face and a grin that could knock a grandmother dead on their face. Fingers flew through the air; you got some that time! 

 

_-U-_-E-L-L-_

 

“Nutella it is!” You grinned, turning toward your fridge, and opening it in a swift motion. You grabbed the nutella, the syrup, and the whipped cream, and then found your way back to the table. Sans had seated himself across from Frisk, so you took to sitting between them, closer to the kitchen. 

 

“Got any ket-”

 

“You’re not having ketchup on your pancakes, Sans.”

 

“...Pass the syrup?” 

 

You passed Sans the syrup to the sound of Frisk’s breathy giggles. You smiled at them; they grinned wider, and reached for the nutella, unscrewing it and sticking their spoon into the nearly full jar. 

 

One scoop.

 

Two scoops..

 

Three Scoops...

 

Four scoops....

 

Scrape! Scrape! Scrape! 

 

You’re gonna need more nutella. 

 

**Eating breakfast with friends!**

**Frisk's Stress Level Decreased!**

**Total: 8%**

**Stress Level Under 10%! Perk Gained: Gettin’ Frisky! +3 to all FLIRT interactions!**

 

You learned rather quickly the benefit of knowing ASL as you watched Frisk sign away with their mouth full to the brim with thick, pancakey goodness. 

 

You also learned the benefit of, apparently, magically created voice, as Sans translated in perfect enunciation with a mouth also full of pancakey goodness. 

 

“You said you know where the flower shop was, yeah? Frisk is askin’ where it is.” 

 

“Oh- Yueh! Ish dahn eh oad, ah eh ihn-er-she-.... ol’ on.” 

 

You swallowed. 

 

You weren’t jealous. 

 

“It’s down the road, at the intersection of Copernicus and Galileo.” 

 

**New Quest added! Flowers From Algernon**

**New Quest Made Active!**

**New marker added to minimap: Astronomer’s Corner.**

 

“And what about charisma points?” Sans interprets again. You blink. 

 

“Uhh, I don’t know about... charisma points... but if you’re looking for a way to get connected, I’d probably make friends with Miss Bellum.” 

 

A raised eyebrow from Frisk was all you needed. 

 

“She’s the Mayor’s secretary... Well, she’s more basically the mayor. She keeps our mayor on track and on point. WIthout her, I think our town would've burned down  _ years  _ ago.” 

 

“Exaggeration much?” 

 

“Nah, she actually crescent-kicked a pyro a couple years back before they lit up the gas station. She’s pretty badass, for a muggle.” 

 

“...Muggle?” 

 

“It’s a reference. Harriet Potter, an old ‘what if magic was actually really powerful’ book with witches and wizards and major magicks. Frisk gets it.” Frisk gave a quick nod in affirmation, and you continued. “It’s kinda an obscure reference, more common in less-magic based societies, but it kinda blatantly disregards all known magic laws.” 

 

“That’s a problem, though?” Sans blinked, a lazy smile on his face. “Doesn’t a lot of fiction do that?” 

 

“Well, yeah, but it’s kinda such a far off idea, ya’know? Like. We already have a functioning model for the laws of Magic, why would you go through all the work of creating another one? Like suddenly saying, ‘but what if humans breathed carbon dioxide, and our feet were  _ backwards!’  _ There’s really no point, so it lost a lot of reader’s interest. I mean, I guess Rowling had a cool idea going on, and I really like her characters and stuff, but  _ really?  _ Even  _ accio  _ is a super OP spell.” 

 

Frisk was nodding sagely. You continued, “Either way, she gave us a more commonly accepted term for people without magic affinity, that removed ‘homeo-saphien-non-magicae normalcy,’ ya’ know what I mean?” 

 

“....uhh...sure?” 

 

Sans  blinked, giving you a guilty, ‘so fucking lost’ look, and you let out a small laugh. Ah. Shit. You had gone off on another one of your horrible tangents. 

 

You coughed, looking off to the side, rubbing the  back of your neck, “Uhh, either way, Miss Bellum... She’s the Mayor’s secretary. Badass Muggle. She, uhh... She gets an iced tea at the starbucks near the city hall every friday, saturday, and sunday at around 2. Intersection of Pollux and Castor.” 

 

**New quest added! A Latte Tea for a Lot o’ La** **_tea!_ **

**New marker added: Astrologer’s Corner!**

**Calendar Updated!**

 

“Oh! But she hates people interrupting her before she’s drunk at least half her tea, so don’t talk to her before she does that. She’s the one with the bright orange hair. You can’t miss her. And, uhh, she leaves only a couple of minutes after she finishes her tea, so you won’t have much time to impress her.”

 

**Frisk's Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 10%**

 

“She’s also almost always on her phone, so you gotta catch her between calls. DO. NOT. INTERRUPT. Her calls.” 

 

**Frisk's Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 15%**

**Perk lost!**

 

“I guess you could buy her iced tea for her, it’s a double passion-fashion Oolong latte with 2 and a half extra pumps of raspberry, double brewed, one pump of strawberry, half water, and light ice.”

 

**Frisk's Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 20%**

 

“But it has to be done in, like, exactly 3 minutes before she shows up, or the ice will have melted for too long, and she won’t drink it.” 

 

**Frisk's Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 27%**

 

“If you do it any sooner, then it won’t be watered down enough, and she’ll take it to-go. So I’d order it around 7 minutes early if Jane is working, 13 minutes if it’s John, 12 if it’s Jack. Jake will get it out the fastest, at like, around 5 minutes, but he almost  _ always  _ forgets the last half pump of raspberry, so you gotta stir it and make sure it’s the right color. If it’s not, give it back to him. If it’s Jasmine, don’t even try. It takes her 14 years to get  _ anything  _ done, unless you give her extra,  _ incentive,”  _ you rubbed your thumb and fingers together, raising your eyebrows, “if you know what I mean. And it’s gotta be a 20 in the tip jar or it won’t make a lick o’ difference.” You gestured with your fork a bit, stabbing another bite of food and stuffing it happily in your face.

 

**Frisk's Stress Level Increased!**

**Total: 40%**

**Debuff gained: -2 to all charisma checks.**

 

You swallowed, “But hey, if you get on her good side, she’ll fight for you forever, ya’know? I mean, sure, the mayor’s useless, but he’s  _ nice,  _ so Miss Bellum sticks around, despite his,” you paused, looking up for a moment, “Uhh...  _ shortcomings...”  _

 

“Why do I feel like the mayor is really short?” Sans cut in, raising a brow. You shot him a knowing smirk, and his resounding “ahhh” only made it widen. Frisk huffed, and you turned to see them wallowing in their food, stirring the pooling nutella listlessly. 

 

“I gotta say,” you said, pushing a can of whipped cream toward the kid, “I don’t envy you, being the main character of a game or whatever. Tough shit.” 

 

Frisk took the can from you, staring at it for a moment before nodding sadly, and tipping their head back, shooting the whipped cream straight into their mouth. They slammed the can back onto the table like you would an empty shot glass, and then swallowed the mouthful of cream, their pout just a little less sad. 

 

You heard a gag, and quickly turned to see Sans staring at Frisk with wide eyes and a slack jaw (that was weird). “And you give me shit for drinking ketchup! That’s gross!” He complains, and you both balk.

 

“...Did you just... call... whipped cream... gross?” Your words are soft, deliberate. Careful. The lights in Sans’s eyes turn toward you, and his grin looks disgusted. 

 

“You just shot it straight into your mouth! What is that, anyway? It’s so...  _ solid!  _ You can’t even  _ drink  _ that!” 

 

“OH my GOD! How can I even have such a blaspheme in my house!?” You slammed your hands into the table, and then grabbed the can, holding it toward Sans. “This,  _ good sir,  _ is the  _ greatest  _ emotional eating snack known to mankind! Nothing beats a good shot of whipped cream on a sad day!” 

 

You heard Frisk’s small hands slap against the table, and looked over just in time to see them nodding happily/angrily. 

 

“Except maybe  _ everything!”  _ Sans shot back toward you, recoiling from the held out can. “I mean, I understand putting that shit on strawberries or something, but eating it  _ plain?”  _

 

“SAYS THE KETCHUP CHUGGING UNKLE FUCKER!” You slammed the can down, somewhat acknowledging the snickers coming from the kid on the other side of the table. Oh good, it’s working! You jab an angry finger at Sans. “You hypocrite! I’ve had to  _ order a glass of ketchup  _ for you, and you’re judging me for giving a sad kid some  _ solquid ambrosia!?”  _

 

“Solquid? That’s not even a word!” 

 

“Liquid and solid put together! Have you EVER heard of a frosty!?” The snickers from Frisk transformed a little, turning into something  _ almost  _ like a giggle. 

 

“Nope.” He winked, getting one solid giggle from Frisk. You tried to keep the smile from your own face, tried to keep scowling at Sans. 

 

“Ohmygodyou’rehopeless.” You facepalmed, looking at the can of whipped cream for a moment. 

 

“Okay. Look. Just  _ try  _ it, okay?” You picked up the can and held it out to him. “You won’t be disappointed.” 

 

“Pretty sure I will, buddy. I’m not touching that.” he looked at the can warily, as if it were a poisonous snake, and you wondered for a moment if he was actually  _ that  _ disgusted by your and Frisk’s love of whipped cream. Pshh!

 

“C’mon! It’s actually really good! Like fluffy icecream!” 

 

“It’s not even frozen! How can it be like icecream?” 

 

“I said it was  _ like  _ fluffy icecream! Not it  _ was  _ fluffy icecream! God, Sans, get it  _ right!”  _

 

“I’m not eating your air infused milk!” 

 

“Excuse you! It’s air-infused  _ cream and sugar!  _ It’s SO much better than milk!” 

 

“I’m still not eating it.” He frowned, crossing his arms in front of him. 

 

“Yes you are!” You took a step forward, and watched as his eyes flickered from your face to the can, and back. The smile on his face got tight, and he took half a step back. 

 

“No i’m not.” He shook his head, about to take another step back, but you advanced on him and grabbed the front of his shirt, taking the can and shoving it against his teeth. 

 

“Yes! You! Are!” You shouted, pressing down on the nozzle. It shot out the whipped cream, which ricocheted off his teeth and sprayed out on either side of the nozzle, falling downward onto your hands and his shirt. He thrashed, turning his head away and-

 

Holy shit did you just teleport!? Frisk was in front instead of behind you now, but Sans was still firmly in your grasp. You were stunned for a moment, but recovered before he could rip himself from your grasp. You tried again, squirting the whipped cream over his mouth, but to no avail. 

 

Frisk was screeching in laughter. 

 

“I’m not gonna open my mouth,” Sans said with magical-projection, relaxing once he realized you couldn’t get the white stuff in his mouth. You paused, frozen for half a second, staring at his clamped jaw. Your eyes trailed from his teeth upward, and you saw him visibly tense when you made eye-contact. 

 

_ Oh!  _

 

You grinned. 

 

He blanched. 

 

“You wouldn’t.” He seethed, eyes wide in terror. 

 

“Watch me!” You laughed evilly, quickly moving the can from his teeth to his eye, and shoving the nozzle into his left eye-socket. For good measure, you yelled triumphantly as you pressed down on the nozzle, shooting whipped cream into his skull. 

 

He yelled. 

 

Frisk howled in laughter, clutching their stomach and nearly falling off the chair as you pushed Sans back against the table, filling his skull till whipped cream came pouring out of his other eye-socket, and seeping through the cracks in his teeth. 

 

Sans’s yelling turned gargled, and for the first moment since the “fight” began, you wondered if,  _ maybe,  _ this wasn’t safe for him. His hands raised up from their previous flailing, and he froze. 

 

And then he fell silent. 

 

You paused, finger letting go of the nozzle, halting the flow of whipped cream. The only sound now was Frisk’s raucous laughter. Sans was stiff as a board under your hands, and you felt your blood begin to drain from your face. 

 

“...Sans?” 

 

And then he fell limp, like a ragdoll in your hands, and you scrambled to catch him as he fell. His skull thunked against the table, scaring Frisk from their laughter. His body, which before felt like it had some sort of mass to it, suddenly felt light. His clothing, that previously fit snugly around his general girth, fell like lifeless cloth on...lifeless...bones...

 

“Oh my god,” You choked on your breath, head shooting toward Frisk, eyes wide. “I think I killed him!”


	5. CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHRISTMAS SPECIAL!!!
> 
> THIS IS NOT CANON!!!
> 
> It's just your health christmas dose of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should read this. It's wonderful. I made myself happy.

NOT CANON CHRISTMAS SPECIAL BUT YOU SHOULD STILL READ IT IT'S REALLY FUCKING CUTE!!!!

 

 

“Merry Christmas!” You shouted the moment the door opened, holding the christmas present in your hands out in front of you. 

 

Sans stood on the other side of the opened door, eyes wide in shock and amusement. He snickered, leaning against the door for support, “Did you really just knock on the door of your own house just so I could have a new experience?” 

 

“Absolutely. Now grab your present, let me in, and open it, you dork.” You winked, wiggling the present in the air. Sans laughed again, grabbing the present and motioning for you to enter your own house. You grinned, waltzing into the house and heading over to the christmas tree, the skeleton close behind, shaking his head. 

 

“Of all the  _ ‘christmas experiences’  _ you think i’ve missed out on, why did you start with that one, though?” 

 

“It was easiest.” You shrugged, kneeling on the ground next to the fireplace, and grabbing the nearby lighter, “I’ve got a list christmas experiences the length of  _ Papyrus,  _ and I gotta start  _ somewhere!  _ Plus, the last save-point Frisk made has me out and about and you taking care of the house, soooo.... _ ”  _

 

“Touche, touche,” Sans trailed off, sitting down on the couch and picking at the edges of the present. As he dug a tipped bone under the tape, you grabbed the gas-key next to the fireplace, and plugged it into the wall, giving it a soft twist. “So Frisk and the gang are gonna be here in a couple of hours, after Frisk takes care of another check,” Sans made small talk as he slowly picked at the wrapping paper, hoping you’d turn around and express annoyance at his meticulous approach to opening the gift. 

 

“Mmm,” You were barely listening, hand still twisting the gas key as you messed with the lighter, trying to get it to actually light, “that’s nice...” 

 

“...they’ve decided to ride in on the boulder today. Thought it’d save gas.” 

 

“Mmhmm, mmhmm. Gah, why won’t you  _ light?”  _

 

“Cuz, you know, boulders are rocks.” 

 

“Oh, cool.  _ Shit  _ maybe I need a new one....” 

 

“Rocks? C’mon,  _ rocks?  _ Like, spongebob?” 

 

“Huh?” You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him, hand limp on the gas-key. 

 

“I was, Y’know... I was making a reference to... with the rock...” He blubbered a bit, picking at the wrapping paper more as you shook your head in confusion. He sighed, “Never mind.” 

 

You snorted, “Sorry, man, I wasn’t listening, I guess.” You shrugged, turning back to the fireplace. 

 

“No duh.” He laughed, rolling his eyes and finally pulling off the top bit of the present. Oh look. A box. 

 

“Rude.” You sounded overly offended, waving the lighter in the air for a moment before finally dropping it, and leaning to the side, trying to grab a little matchbox on the other side of the fireplace, hand still holding down the gas-key. 

 

“Well, it’s rude to not listen to your guest, so now we’re even.” He reasoned. You shrugged, finally reaching the matchbox, pushing it open with one hand, and grabbing a little matchstick. Sans felt himself go cold, “Hey, isn’t that stick a little, uhh,  _ small  _ to be sticking into a fireplace?” 

 

“Pffhh nahhhhh,” You wiggled the stick in the air for a moment, “I’ve been doing this for years. It’ll be fine! It’s a really low, steady flow of gas at the bottom. A little light’ll just start the flames.” You swiped the matchstick on the brick below your knees, lighting the tip, and then slowly bringing it to the fireplace. 

 

“Yeah but you’ve been holding onto that gas-key for quite a whi-” 

 

WHOOSH!

 

Fire  _ blew  _ out of the fireplace in a quick, human-sized fireball, making you screech and flail backwards, landing on your butt and skidding backward a few feet. Sans dropped his present, standing and taking half a step toward you. 

 

“Oh shit are you ok-” He paused when you lifted a hand. The fireball, just as quick as it was there, was gone, leaving behind just a frozen you, and a fearing Sans. After a few seconds, the hand that was in the air, halting Sans’ movement trailed toward your face, patting around it for a moment. Sans could feel sweat dripping down his forehead, “Hey, bud, c’mon, say something.” 

 

You laughed. 

 

It confused him at first, the soft giggle that spilled from your lips, and then worried him seconds later when your little giggles turned into full gut-wrenching bellows. “What’s so funny!? You’re worrying me!” 

 

“I just- I- I can’t... We keep getting in  _ hairy  _ situations... and-haha-  _ brow  _ is no different!” You finally turned around, face filled with childish amusement, mouth wide in a grin, eyebrows  _ completely singed off.  _ Surrounding your face was a halo of charred, frizzy hair. Your wide, glittering eyes completed the whole ‘mad scientist’ look, and Sans couldn’t stop the snort that erupted. 

 

Or the bellows of laughter, to be honest. 

 

He dropped to his knees, hugging his stomach as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. You followed suit, dropping onto your back and covering your eyes with your elbow. 

 

“Oh lords my cheeks hurt!” You giggled. 

 

“From the fire or from laughing?” Sans asked, laughing too hard to sound worried. 

 

“Laughing! Laughing!” You snickered, your laughs nearly silent now as you ran out of breath. “Oh my god oh my g o d I have a  _ fiery  _ personality!” 

 

“HAH!” Sans nearly collapsed on the floor, if it weren’t for the fact that he was suddenly sitting at the dining room table, his morning coffee in front of him. 

 

He blinked, looking at the coffee for a moment, still laughing, ish. 

 

He was sure, when you came back, you’d bypass the fireplace. 

 

_________________

_________________

 

“TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY!

FA LA LA LA LAAAAA, LA LA LAA LAAAAAA!!!” 

 

“Oh my god, christmas carolling this time?” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“There’s only  _ one  _ of you! It’s not the same!” 

 

“Yeah, but I have enough personality for at  _ least  _ 5 people,” You wiggled your eyebrows, pulling your hands out of the cliche- hand warming cylinder that carollers wear. Sans looked you up and down, chuckling. 

 

“Where did you even get that outfit with all your clothing in here?” He inquired. You were wearing, also, the cliche caroller outfit, snow-poncho, bonnet, skirt and all. 

 

“I bought them!” 

 

“From where?!?!” 

 

“Exactly where I got your present!” You grinned, holding out a  _ different  _ present than the one you gave him before the fireplace incident, “JC Penney is a dual-use store!” You grinned, holding the present out. 

 

“That would explain why it took longer for you to get here than last time...” Sans smiled, grabbing the present, and motioning for you to enter your own home, this time with a little bow. You curtseyed, and walked in, looking at the christmas tree and fireplace for a moment before shaking your head. 

 

“How about Hot Chocolate this time?” You asked, gingerly touching your eyebrows. 

 

“Hot Chocolate sounds perfect, provided you remember our, ah,  _ arrangement.”  _

 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. No whipped cream within a 15 foot radius of your  _ face _ ,” you mumbled. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Killjoy....” You kicked the ground for a moment, pulling a snicker from Sans. The two of you headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make the chocolate,” You offered, motioning toward the table, “You just relax, okay?” 

 

“I’ve got no problem with that,” Sans shrugged, relaxing in a chair as you pulled out a pot, milk, and chocolate. 

 

Milk in pot. Pot on stove. Stove on medium hot. Chocolate ready to be poured into milk. 

 

Easy as pie. You looked over at Sans, watching him stretch his arms behind his head, and close his eyes. You smiled, heart growing warm. Having someone here, relaxing with you, without you feeling like you were going through the same scripts... 

 

And with specifically HIM, SANS, to be honest. Sweet, relaxed, calming Sans. Easily worried but not easily agitated, smooth, deep voiced Sans. Pun loving, understanding, teleporting Sans... 

 

You... You didn’t want this to change. You didn’t think you could go  _ back...  _

 

You realized you loved both him and Frisk nearly 7 years worth of loads ago. Loved him like family. Loved him like a close, irreplaceable friend. Loved him like you couldn’t live without him. Frisk had a certain check that they  _ just. Couldn’t. Get!  _ They needed Sans’s help to get from one side of the city to the next over 20 separate times in 3 days, so he hotel-hopped with Frisk. Helped Frisk. He was gone for  _ months.  _ You didn’t know what to do without them. You couldn’t go back to scripted people. You couldn’t do much other than... well...  _ wait.  _

 

When they came back, you demanded that they move in with you, so when they had to be gone for months at a time, at  _ least  _ they would be home for the night. 

 

The three of you fell asleep in a cuddle-nest of blankets in your room, you clutching to both of them with tears in your eyes and a smile on your face. 

 

You realized you  _ loved  _ Sans nearly 3 years worth of loads ago, when that  _ crazy  _ person tried to kill Frisk, and he jumped in front of the bullet, and you felt your own heart turn to dust with his body. 

 

Sure, he was back literally  _ hours  _ later, but seeing him... You took a breath.... Seeing him  _ die,  _ seeing the pain wash across his face, seeing his eyes scan the area till he found you, seeing the serene smile that blinked across his face before he  _ faded away.... _

 

The night after he came back, you kicked Frisk out of the normal post-load cuddle fest, and held Sans closer than you ever had before. He consoled you, running his hands up and down your back, kissing your forehead, your eyes, your cheeks, your tears. He told you he was _fine._ That it barely hurt. _That he wouldn’t leave you. That he couldn’t leave you._ _That he loved you._

 

And your heart felt warmer than it ever had. You wanted  _ right then  _ to catch his lips against yours, to kiss him until he realized you loved him too, but  _ so much different, and so much more. _

 

You took a breath, shaking your thoughts away, and let out a sigh. This was enough for you, your little family. You couldn’t ask for more, not when  _ eternity  _ was so unpredictable... You opened the fridge, wondering if you had some sweets to go with the hot chocolate, when something caught your eye in the corner. 

 

Oh. 

 

Oh you  _ had to.  _

 

Seconds later, you were above Sans, one of your hands softly touching his cheek, eyes half lidded, the other hand sneakily behind your back. 

 

“ _ Sans _ ,” You whispered, face a few inches from his. His eyes flicked open quicker than you’d ever seen them, the little lights tiny and bright, staring straight at you. His mouth parted, a bit of breath washing over your neck. 

 

“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice wavering a bit. You hesitated, looking away from him for a moment, swallowing. 

 

“I, I wanted to, uhh... to say something...” Your eyes flicked back to him, watching his expression twist a bit, and then release in... realization? Shit! No! Dial up the  _ sexy! _ “to  _ do _ something... but...” You paused, watching the little lights in his eyes grow in intensity, his agape mouth twisting into something like a smile, but more...  _ confidant.  _ Oh  _ fuck  _ he’s not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up? 

 

“Mmm?” He asked, voice deeper. Your heart skipped a beat, but the hard object in your hand kept you determined. He’s just rising to the challenge. It’s a game of chicken now. You can do this. You can do this. 

 

“I- I’m not sure... if you’ll...” You trailed off, biting your lip and looking away from him. 

 

A skeletal hand touched your cheek, pulling your eyes back to him. “I can assure you, whatever you’re about to do,” His eyes grew lidded, “I’ll be okay.” 

 

“O-okay...” You took a soft breath in, and then quickly whipped out your other hand, aiming the tip of the whipped cream can straight for his nasal cavity. 

 

He saw it half a second too soon, and recoiled, yelping and flailing backwards, trying to get away from the offending object. You leaned forward with him, already laughing, when the chair Sans was leaning back in tipped too far, and both of you  _ were f a l l i n g- _

 

He flailed, slamming his hand into the table, and knocking over his-

 

His coffee? 

 

He looked around for a moment, finding no sign of you, no sign of whipped cream: just a knocked over coffee-cup and a very freaked out Sans. 

 

He blinked, looking at his coffee, not laughing this time. 

__________________   
__________________

 

“I’m sorry!” 

 

“Nope.”

 

“C’mon, Sans, it’s been 45 minutes, let me in!” 

 

“Nope. You broke the restraining order.” 

 

“I’m SORRY! It won’t happen again, I promise!” 

 

“You said that last time!” 

 

“I won’t buy whipped cream anymore. I’ll give up whipped cream for you, just let me iiiiinnn!” 

 

“Wow, are you  _ whipped  _ or what?” 

 

“Shutup and let me in! I’m sorry!” 

 

“No can do, sweets. You’ve broken the trust of your skele-friend. Looks like you’re sleeping on the roof tonight.” 

 

“I can unlock the  door with my magic, you know, I’m just playing along for your sake.” 

 

“Can your magic move a chair wedged under the handle?” 

 

“You mother FUCKER! Let me in!” 

 

“Let me spray whipped cream in your nose.” 

 

“Sans no, that’s gross.” 

 

“Gee, hypocrite much?” 

 

“I’M SORRY!” 

 

“Not accepted. Tibia honest-” 

 

“OH MY GOD NO DON’T USE THAT PUN YOU’VE USED THAT LIKE 4 BILLION TIMES!” 

 

“Alright this house is officially mine now.” 

 

“SANS!” 

 

“Okay. I’ll let you in without the whipped cream up the nose, but only if you promise to do everything I say for a whole day.” 

 

“Sans that is so JUVENILE do you REALLY think I’m going to agree to that? What are you, three?” 

 

“Possibly.” 

 

“Y’know what? There’s more than one way to skin a cat!” 

 

“You gotta be  _ kitten  _ me!” 

 

“...”

 

“Y’know,  _ kitten?”  _

 

“...”

 

“Bud?” 

 

CA-CHICK! SCREEE! 

 

“Ah shit, the garage!” 

 

“AHAHAHA! YOU CANNOT WIN IN MY OWN HOME!!! OH fuck. Teleportation. Right. That’s a thing... Aaand so is telekinesis. Really? You’re gonna just  _ float me  _ outside again?”

 

“Yup.” 

 

“That cheating.” 

 

“Yup.” 

 

“You piece of shit.” 

 

“Yup.”  

 

SLAM! 

 

“AND you slam my garage door!?!?” 

 

“Yup.” 

 

“I hate you.” 

 

“See ya’ next load, sweets!” 

 

“I HATE YOU!” 

 

“Merry christmas!” 

 

____________________

____________________

 

You didn’t come home for the next load. Sans felt guilty.

____________________

____________________

 

You didn’t come home for the load after that. Sans felt  _ very  _ guilty. 

___________________

___________________

 

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

 

The door opened immediately to reveal a very snarky looking you. 

 

“Do you feel properly guilty now?” 

 

SLAM! 

  
Sans didn’t feel guilty anymore.

___________________

___________________

 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

 

...

 

...

 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

 

...

...

 

...

 

“Sans? I bought ketchup...” 

 

Click. Sqeeeaak.

 

“I’m sorry...” You grimaced guiltily, “I really truly promise I won’t do it again.” 

 

Sans held out his pinky. 

 

You took it in your own without hesitation, squeezing your pinky around his and bouncing it up and down for a few moments. Sans seemed placated, and nodded his head toward the inside of the house. You took the invitation, walking in with the costco sized ketchup bottle in your arms. You handed it to Sans, and he quickly floated it toward the dining-room table, and pulled you into a hug, laughing. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his back, and tucking your face into his clavicle, nuzzling. 

 

“It was funny, at least, hearing you beg to be let into your own house,” He reasoned, and you snickered. 

 

“You’re still a cheater.” 

 

“Yup.” He squeezed you closer for a moment, and you felt loved. You took a soft breath in, and let it out in a relaxed sigh. 

 

Sans smelled good, like old paper and faded cologne. 

 

“Wanna watch a movie while waiting for everyone else?”

 

“That sounds safe,” Sans joked, resting his chin on the top of your head. You laughed, pushing him away with a half-second of regret, and then heading toward the couch. Sans followed close behind, and, when you found a seat on the couch, sat right next to you, your thighs touching his. You laughed lightly as he threw an arm around your shoulders, and pulled you into his side. “Y’know,” He started, turning his face toward you, and leaning in a bit. 

 

His eyes were half-lidded, his face inches from yours. He whispered your name, his arm around your shoulder holding you close. You forgot how to breath; your heart forgot how to beat. 

 

“Y-yeah?” You spluttered, face getting hot. His mouth parted and you took a soft breath in, feeling his breath wash over your face. 

 

“Earlier, when you were this close to me... It reminded me...” His teeth pulled into a sultry smile, the lights in his eyes dimmed. His cheeks were a deep blue. “I wanted to say something...”    
  


The hand not around your shoulder touched your face, softly cupping your cheek. 

 

“Well, more  _ do  _ something,” he leaned closer; you felt his teeth barely brushing your lips, like a feather, for a millisecond. Your mind short-circuited. 

 

“Uhh,” you took a breath in. 

 

“But,” He paused, his thumb brushing against your cheek, “I’m not sure if you’ll...” 

 

“You’re-... You’re using my w-...words against me...” You stuttered, face bright red. 

 

“I love you, Three.” 

 

“I love you too...”

 

“No, listen for just a moment.” He squeezed you closer, the sultry look in his eyes fading away for a moment, replaced by serious concentration. You fell silent, getting lost in his breath painting across your face, and the sharp focus of his eye-lights. He took a breath in; you felt his chest rise against your side. “I want to go to bed with you every night, and wake... wake up with you in the morning. No matter how we load, I want to have you in my arms. I want to...” He paused, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment,and you felt heat jolt through your whole body. “I want to kiss you...” He trailed off, as if he had more to say, but had gotten lost in his words, and gave up. 

 

Instead, he just breathed, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes, waiting for a response. A reaction. 

 

You hesitated. 

 

The lights in Sans’s eyes dimmed, and he looked down, slowly backing away from you, “I’m sorr-” 

 

“We’re stuck in eternity!” You interjected, leaning forward a bit, grabbing the hand on your cheek to stop him from retreating more. He stopped, letting his eyes fall on you again. You paused for a moment, face hot. “I-... If we start this... a relationship... and it doesn’t go well... I could  _ lose  _ you...” 

 

The way Sans’s face melted at your words, the way he relaxed, the way his smile morphed into one of understanding, soothed your soul more than you thought possible. He whispered your name, letting it hug you like a soft blanket, “You will  _ never  _ lose me...” He breathed, pulling you closer, pressing his forehead against yours, “even if,  _ this,”  _ He motioned between the two of you, “doesn’t work, you’ll never lose me as a friend.” The hand on your cheek shifted around until he could wrap his pinky around yours. He squeezed it, rocking it slightly up and down.  _ “I promise.”  _

 

You let all the air in your lungs out in one happy huff, and tears tickled your eyes. Sans smiled, his hand releasing your pinky and wiping below your eye. You laughed breathlessly, and grabbed his hand again, “I love you too, Sans.” 

 

His smile widened, his eyes dimmed into something you could  _ only  _ describe as love, hopefully  _ eternal  _ love, and he leaned forward. 

 

He didn’t have to move much; you met his lips half-way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, this is just like. a feel good story. So I don't go batshit crazy. 
> 
> So POST ANY IDEAS YOU WANT TO SEE 
> 
> and I'll prolly include them.
> 
> Snowdecahedron ROCKS as my beta!


End file.
